


Beyond the ice rink

by Heilari



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: #I fucked up with the GP competitions calendar, Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Alpha Victor Nikiforov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Bonding, Dom/sub Play, Domestic Fluff, Falling In Love, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, Knotting, Language, Light BDSM, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Multi, Nursing, Omega Verse, Orgasm Control, Polyamory, Polygamy, Public Sex, Sex Toys, Threesome - M/M/M, Unplanned Pregnancy, Urethral Play, Yaoi, feels seriously lots of feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2018-09-10 22:49:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 91,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8942665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heilari/pseuds/Heilari
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky's life it's going to change when he finds out a shocking truth. Discover to be an omega and not only, will be just the begin. When the fate will bring him into a relationship he had never imagined before, he will understand that have a family is not as bad as he always thought, and that's maybe everything he had ever been looking for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Beyond the ice rink](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/250117) by Speranza9. 



> First of all, I have to say that it’s been ages since the last time I wrote something, From the great times of high school when I was crazy for the Tokio Hotel!  
> Yuri On Ice it’s stealing my life! With writing, drawing and freaking out in the wait of the new episodes I barely have time to eat!  
> So I don’t even know where this idea came from. What I know is that I Love Mpreg, and I love Yurio, and that’s it. 
> 
> Now some notes before start!  
> 1- This is a translation! The original is in Italian, so if it’s not perfect, forgive me.  
> 2- Yurio here will be called Yuri, because yes, that’s his name, and even if I love to call him Yurio, call him with his true name will give me the chance to make him freak out every time someone will call him with his Japanese nickname.  
> 3- This is an Omegaverse, substantially a universe where humanity is divided in 3 classes: alpha, who are rich, have high scores in school and are respected and generally have a high social status; beta, who are basically common humans; and omega, who are the rarest, especially if they are male. They have heat periods like animals, and produce pheromones for attract the alphas, who are the only one with who they can mate. Due to this they have the lower social status, since they aren’t much reliable when they go in heat, even if they take medications for it. This is a very quick explanation, if you want to know more, google it :D  
> 4- Yurio is 17 for the simple fact that otherwise I wouldn’t have been allowed to upload the story! (I was more than fine with his real age…)  
> 5- It is going to be a threesome Victor x Yuuri x Yurio.  
> 6- The title sucks, I know, forgive me -_-

The clamour lowers while Yuri reaches the centre of the rink.

He takes a deep breath, trying to focus: the notes of Agape echo clearly in his mind, almost as if he could hear them for real. He performs the choreography focusing on the movements and brings back to his mind Lilia’s instructions: no weight on the arms, keep your hands soft, the back bended, your chin high. Smooth and delicate. Dance with grace.

He bites the inside of his cheeks, feeling his frustration rising. That music doesn’t suit him, he never felt like it belonged to him. There is nothing pure and innocent inside of him. He grits his teeth. He should have got Eros.

He prepares for the first jump. Triple Axel. He falls and painfully hits his knee, but he recovers quickly and continues. Yakov shouts something from the sidelines and Yuri ignores him: he is fully aware that he’s sucking.

He had improved dramatically after Victor had gone away to run after that damned fat pig. He had poured all his energies, anger and sexual frustration into the training with Lilia Baranovskaya and she had been able to collect those emotions and use them to push him beyond his limits. Together they had honed the rough performance which he had brought on the rink of the Ice Castle and he had been certain that nobody would have been able to take their eyes off of him in the next tournament.

But that was _before_. Before the beginning of that sudden illness which has been weakening him for weeks by now.

Within a short period of time the training had become gruelling. Jumps seemed to be insurmountable, almost as if he had completely lost the sense of balance. In the mornings his legs were so swollen he could barely wear his skates, in the evenings he was so tired he would collapse on his bed with his clothes still on. And there was this persistent headache that, in addition together with Victor’s absence and his frustration, made him grumpier and crankier than usual.

“Yuri! Lift that leg! You’re not putting in enough effort!” Yakov’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, he gets distracted and almost falls down for the second time.

“Damn it, Yakov! Stop shouting at me, I know what to do!” he bursts out in response.

He takes a run-up, thrusts the tip in the ice and jumps. _Quadruple Salchow_.

Then the world starts spinning too fast around him: he lands badly, the leg buckles under him and Yuri falls hitting his cheek violently on the icy floor. That will definitely leave a bruise.

“What the hell are you doing?!” yells Yakov, purple in rage.

Yuri would like to get up, but he can’t. The pain radiates from the jaw and goes up to the temples, his head throbs. He feels his stomach turn and thinks he’s going to vomit there, on the rink. He feels beads of cold sweat forming on the back of his neck.

Then there is the closer sound of blades slicing through the ice. Concise voices.

He feels hands on his back, cold and delicate, feminine: it’s probably Mila. He feels his breath leaving, his sight gets blurred and he’s forced to lean on her. Bile burns his throat.

“Yuri!”

“I’m ok… I-I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not ok! You hit your head! Yakov, call a doctor!”

He feels hands raising his face. He closes his eyes: the light seems too bright. He would like to push her away, to shout at Mila not to touch him, to leave him alone. He just needs to get up, get up and resume his skating. But he’s not even able to open his mouth.

“Call an ambulance!” she repeats, an evident note of agitation in her tone.

The last thing Yuri hears is a yelling voice, a piercing, ear-splitting whistle and arms that wrap around him, and then everything goes black.

When he wakes up, he feels dizzy. Nausea overcomes his stomach and his head spins. He’s about to get up, but a hand pushes him down.

“Please, don’t move. You need to rest.”

It’s an unknown voice, cold and distant. He blinks and the neon light blinds him. He looks around. The room is small, the walls are decorated with flowers of paper and brightly coloured butterflies, there are two threadbare-looking armchairs on the right and a window protected by heavy iron bars on the left, probably to avoid suicide attempts. There’s a smell of disinfectant and strawberry flavoured syrup. A smell of disease.

“Where am I?”

“At the hospital. You were rushed here after passing out, do you remember?”

Yuri shakes his head. He doesn’t remember anything, only jumping before falling down. _A quadruple Salchow_. His head seems to be full of wadding, he still feels dazed and his face throbs painfully.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Better - he lies - did you put me in the fucking pediatric ward? I’m not a brat.”

The doctor looks at him with a raised eyebrow and gives him a “You don’t look this bad after all”.

Yuri gives him a withering glance.

The other bends over him, ignoring him completely. He feels his cold fingers on his wrist and a shiver runs down his spine: he remembers other cool fingers touching him, sliding on his hot skin. He flushes.

“The pulse is steady. We’ll have to do some tests, a nurse will arrive shortly to take a blood sample. Do you have some kind of disease? Do you take some sort of medicine?”

“No…”

“Do you know of diseases in your family?”

“No”.

The doctor writes something down on his medical record.

“You skate, right? Did you sustain any injuries recently? Like concussion?”

“No” He looks at him, upset. If he skates? He’s the best skater in the whole of goddamned Russia. “I got this while playing tennis” he hisses with scornful irony, pointing at the bruise blossoming like a red rose on his pale skin.

The doctor doesn’t answer and a heavy silence falls between them, he’s probably hating him as much as Yuri is.

“Good, rest now. We have already contacted your family. The visiting hours are from 3 to 6 pm. If you need something, call the nurses, do not get out of bed on your own. Understood?”

Yuri grunts in response and the doctor goes away, leaving him alone.

Nausea and anger begin to ebb, he feels better. He sits up, brushes his cheekbone with his fingers and hisses. He still doesn’t understand how this could have happened. He could have hurt himself pretty bad. Luckily it seems nothing was broken. He would have hated the idea of ruining his face. After all, it is what had charmed Victor in the first place.

He grinds his teeth: he doesn’t want to think about him.

The nurse interrupts his train of thoughts bursting into the room with a trolley for blood sample taking. She makes him lean down again and lifts up his sleeve. It is only at that point that Yuri realises he has been wearing light sky blue pyjamas with little clowns printed on it. He almost choked out of embarrassment. He swears he’s going to kick Yakov’s arse for making him hospitalise in the paediatrics ward.

He almost doesn’t feel the needle piercing his skin.

“Don’t worry, I’m almost done.” The woman smiles while she fills some vials, more than Yuri was expecting. For a moment he foolishly wonders if he’ll be able to survive without all that blood.

“We’ll have the results in a couple of hours.”

He doesn’t answer back. The nurse exits the room in the same hurry she came in before, and Yuri is left alone again. He shifts under the blankets. The fabric is stiff and itchy. He looks at the clock hanging on the wall in front of him. It’s 12:45. He sighs heavily.

His grandfather won’t be there for another two and a half hours, if he’s coming at all.

He turns sideways and pulls the sheets over his head: he doesn’t want to be alone. Since Victor left for Japan he’s done his best to avoid that. Being alone means having the chance to think. And he doesn’t want to think, doesn’t want to face reality. More than anything, he doesn’t want to think about _him_. That’s why he has immersed himself heart and soul into the training sessions, until his feet were bleeding and his lungs were burning from the strain.

He shuts his eyes with a sigh. Maybe this time he’s really demanded too much of his body.

A sharp noise makes him startle: he doesn’t realise he’s fallen asleep until he suddenly wakes up. His grandfather is coming in, there’s snow on his hat and his face is red from the cold.

“Grandpa!” His face lights up. He feels joy warming up his chest, like every time he sees him. He’s the only thing he has. The last shred of family he’s got left.

“Yuratchka,” his voice is filled with worry as he nears the bed and lightly touches his forehead, and Yuri leans into the touch with a smile. “Look at the state you’re in! They called and told me you passed out on the rink.”

“I’m better, really. Can we go home?”

“Yuri, I don’t think that-” his words are interrupted by the squeak of the door turning on its hinges, and the same doctor who visited him an hour ago walks in with heavy steps.

“Are you the father?” he asks.

“The grandfather.”

“I’d need to talk to the boy’s parents.” He speaks gravely, he’s certainly bringing bad news. Yuri’s stomach gives a flip.

“I am his guardian.”

“I see. Very well then, you can follow me out.”

“Like hell! I want to hear too!”

“Yuri! Watch your mouth,” his grandfather dryly scolds him.

“I still want to hear.”

The two exchange some meaningful glances, and they stay, but the doctor doesn’t seem too happy about it. And his grandfather is tense. He’s never seen him like that.

“Fine. We’ve done a full screening. All the values seem to be all right, there’s a slight anaemia, but nothing to be worried about. However, we detected an unusually high level of beta-HCG and alpha-fetoprotein.”

“ _Feto_.... protein?” Yuri looks at the doctor, puzzled. He’s no physician, but he knows what a foetus is. And there definitely cannot be anything like that inside him. He’s not an omega. He’s seventeen, and has never had any symptoms of heat. Nothing that could suggest he is anything other than an ordinary beta.

“Yes, it is a protein that is naturally produced by the organism, but it is also a tumorous marker. Such high values of these hormones in a male are usually associated with… testicular cancer.”

The world suddenly freezes around him. Yuri’s ears are ringing and his breath is stuck in his chest. _Cancer_. It’s the only word echoing in his head. He’s only seventeen, how can he have cancer? He’d rather be told he’s an omega. Anything but that.

“We will proceed with ultrasound and…”

“You are mistaken.” Yuri turns towards his grandfather, whose voice is resolute and determined.

“Sir, please, I know it’s hard to accept, but…”

“I tell you that you are mistaken!”

“Grandpa…” Yuri is looking at him, shocked.

The man sighs heavily.

“Yuri is an omega.” His words are followed by a cold silence.

“What?!” Yuri’s voice resounds in the room. “No, it can’t be! I’m seventeen and I’ve never had any symptoms! I’ve never… been in heat. It can’t be!”

“I’ve been giving you suppressors for the last three years. Once every four months, for a whole week.”

“But I’ve never taken pills of any kind!”

“I crushed them and mixed them with the food.” His voice sounds tired, it’s a hard truth to confess.

Yuri looks at him, his mouth agape. He has no words. He can’t come to terms with what he’s being told.

“I knew how much you loved skating. It’s always been everything to you. This - _being an omega_ \- would have ruined your career. Had it been known, nobody would have sponsored you, no matter how good you might be. So I made a decision.”

“How did you get the suppressors?” the doctor cuts in.

“His mother. She left right after his birth, but at least she did one good thing. Along with Yuri, she left behind everything else. Documents, medical records, everything. I forged the dates and used her prescriptions.”

The doctor looks at him, upset. “Do you know how dangerous this is? Not to mention illegal? You could have caused him permanent damage!”

“I’m sorry. I only did what I thought it was right.”

“We’ll have to do some tests. If you gave him suppressors without any prescriptions, we don’t know how his organisms could have been damaged. Thank goodness he’s not infertile. These levels of Beta-HCG, in these circumstances, certainly reveal a pregnancy. Judging from the values, we can assume he is in the thirteen week.”

Those words hit Yuri like an avalanche. The time seems to freeze, and at the same time everything seems to be happening too fast. He can clearly feel his grandfather hold his breath, shocked. He turns to look at him, but Yuri doesn’t know how to react, he feels dizzy and the ringing in his eardrums resumes, persistent. He thinks he’s about to pass out again.

“I’ll schedule an appointment for an ultrasound as soon as possible, we need to define a treatment plan for the next months. I’ll have the obstetrician talk to you. It looks like you’ll have to be moved to the obstetrics ward after all.” There’s a hint of sarcasm in his voice, almost satisfaction, while he says those words before leaving them alone.

“How could you not tell me? How could you hide something like that from me?!” Yuri cries furiously, turning to face his grandfather.

“It wouldn’t have made any difference if you had known.”

“How can you say something like that?! It would have made a huge difference!”

“What, Yuri? You would have quit skating? You would have given up your career? You wouldn’t have let the first random man fuck you, like your mother did?!” His grandfather spits out those words with rage, and Yuri sees regret in his eyes as soon as they leave his mouth, but he doesn’t care.

“Go away!”

“Yuratchka…”

_“I SAID GO AWAY!”_

The man sighs and lowers his head, guiltily.

“I’m sorry,” are his last words before following the doctor out of that hospital room.

Yuri buries his face in his hands and feels tears burning in his eyes. Now he understands, now everything makes sense. Suddenly it feels like all the pieces of the puzzle have fallen into place. Why his mother abandoned him without any explanation. Why his grandfather never wanted to talk about her. Why he’s always felt so different. Why he’s wholeheartedly thrown himself into skating, trying to hold back those feelings he couldn’t quite grasp. Why he’s always been so drawn to _Victor_.

The memory of that burning desire that had made him feel dirty and wrong explodes forcefully in his mind.

He feels a lump in his throat and bites his lip, he doesn’t want to cry. He will not cry.

He grabs the pillow and buries his face in it. The collision with his cheek causes a burst of pain in his temples, his head is throbbing as if it should crack open and a sob escapes his lips. He hates himself for being weak, while his cheeks are getting wet with tears. He throws away the pillow with rage and curls up. Tears keep flowing like a swollen river.

Years of suppressed emotions pour out on those aseptic sheets, while he cries his heart out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The following weeks had been the worst of his life. In the end they had really transferred him to another ward. From paediatrics to obstetrics. More or less like jumping out of the frying pan into the fire. When they had brought him into the new room, the only thing he could think of was that he would have preferred cancer ten times better. Better cancer than _that_.

He had to share the room with three visibly pregnant women, who used to walk bearing their back and hurling the horrible truth into his face, a truth he would be running into within a few months. Their reaction at his arrival had been, if possible, even more irritating than what he could have ever imagined. At first they had thought he was a visitor, maybe the son of one of them, and soon after, that he had come there by mistake. Then bafflement had ensued, when he had settled on his new bed and was eventually followed by a chorus of giggles worthy of a group of teenagers, hugs and caresses definitely unsolicited and unwanted. Yuri had flushed out of embarrassment. He hadn’t given himself the time to elaborate his new condition yet, and all those attentions had been like a punch in the gut that had brought him back to reality.

***

“So you’re an omega.”

Yuri had nodded. Associating that word to himself still seemed impossible to him.

“Did he do that to you? The baby’s father?” one of them had asked, brushing his livid cheek.

He had stared at her, upset. “Of course not! I just fell.”

“Face-first?”

“I’m a professional figure skater, these things do happen.”

“Oh thank God! I was so worried! Who could ever harm such a sweet boy? But it seems risky, skating I mean, maybe you shouldn’t do that…”

Yuri had then harshly pulled the separating curtain, shutting them out of his own world and leaving them to discuss whether it was the case to practice such a dangerous sport in his condition or not, but sooner or later he would have had to come to terms with reality. Whether he liked it or not.  
  
And that moment has come sooner than he had hoped.

***

He had feared that moment more than anything else. More than all the tests he had been subjected to so far. He would have preferred to let them collect a whole bucket of his blood rather than lying on that table that looked like a medieval torture device. But he hadn’t have a choice.

“It might be a little uncomfortable but it won’t be painful, you’ll see.”

The obstetrician smiles and Yuri wonders why she had him strip completely from the waist down just for an ordinary ultrasound. The answer hits him like a thunderbolt, when he sees her inserting a condom on an extremely ambiguous-looking probe and then covering it with gel.

“What the hell do you want to do with that!?”

“This? It’s the probe for the ultrasound. In the first quarter the fetus is still too small for an external ultrasound.”

“Are you joking?! You intend to stick that up my… _my---_ ” he can’t finish the sentence. His cheeks burn out of embarrassment.

“I’m afraid there’s no other way round. But, as I said, it won’t be painful. Come on.” She seizes the ankles without giving him the time to reply, or flee from the room. “Put your feet here, right, come towards me with your hips. There, good.”

Yuri feels pressure between his buttocks and would like to die of embarrassment. The obstetrician turns on the screen and shoves the probe deep into him. He lies on the table. It’s not painful, but it’s so embarrassing he would like to crawl inside a hole three meters underground and die. He hopes with every fiber of his being that his body won’t react at that all-too-familiar sensation, and the mere thought of it makes him turn even more crimson.

“Good, let’s see… here it is!” the obstetrician moves the probe and Yuri bites his lower lip trying to resist the urge of getting up and running away.

“Everything looks fine”. She presses some buttons and the ultrasound scanner blips. “The size is good, within the parameters. Let’s check the pulse now.”

The woman tinkers with the machine for a few seconds, moves the probe again and Yuri holds his breath. He doesn’t know why. If he’s hoping to hear or not. But then here it comes, a noise never heard before, so fast it seems unthinkable it’s a cardiac pulse.

The obstetrician turns the screen towards him.

“We’ve got a pulse. Congratulations.”

There’s a grey image on the screen, confused and shaky. At the center, a fluttering, like a hummingbird’s, given how fast it is, and underneath a coloured stripe that runs after the pulsation of that tiny heart. Yuri feels his own heart skip a beat and then picking up. He feels dizzy, almost drunk. A new feeling blossoms in his chest, like a flower in springtime. An unconditional love, that he has never felt before, without shape or name, but so overwhelming it’s suffocating. And in the split of a second he knows he would do anything to protect that fragile life that is growing inside of him.

 

The obstetrician smiles. Yuri feels the pressure easing while the probe slips out of his body. The screen is turned off and he gasps: he wants to see that image again. He wants to hear that sound again.

He’s about to ask her to turn it on one more time but it’s too late, she’s already standing up.

She tidies up her notes on which she has written the results of the ultrasound, she hands over some tissues to get clean and then goes towards the desk

When Yuri joins her, she’s writing something on his medical record.

“Judging from the images, you are at week fourteen. The fetus is fine and perfectly developed. The size is normal and it doesn’t seem to have sustained any damage from your fall.” She stops for a second and when she resumes talking, her voice is serious: “I know you weren’t aware of your situation as an omega, nor of your pregnancy. I also know that you have expressed your wish to proceed with abortion, and I can sympathies with that. Legally speaking, you would be beyond the deadline to ask for the voluntary termination of pregnancy, but given your rather peculiar situation, they could make an exception, if this pregnancy were to become such a source of stress as to put your mental and physical health at risk.”

Yuri stares in silence. A few minutes ago he was completely certain of his decision of not wanting to raise a child. After all, he’s not ready. He’s alone, he’s only seventeen and has just started his career, his life. A pregnancy would ruin everything. It would destroy his present and future. But now, after seeing that heart pulsing fast inside of him, he’s not that sure any longer. The surge of emotions that he has felt before is now beginning to ebb, but he knows it will never disappear entirely.

“I would like to think about it.”

“Unfortunately, you need to make a decision right now. The more you wait, the more difficult it will be to have the consensus to proceed with the abortion.”

That word now sounds like a blasphemy. A scorching knife deeply stabbing his chest.

“I need time. I can’t just decide off the cuff!”

“Ok, I understand. It’s an important decision after all. We will discharge you today. I’ll talk with the council, I’ll try to buy you three more days. That’s all I can do.”

Yuri nods and stands up.

“Don’t forget these.”

The doctor hands a long strip of paper to him. A series of grey and black snapshots. Confused pictures of that unborn child, whose life is now in his hands.

“Thanks.”

He turns back and goes off. He hides the ultrasound results in his pocket so he can’t see them. He already knows these are going to make everything more difficult.

He quickly gathers his things. He ignores the questions asked by the other women, looking at him puzzled. Yakov waits for him out of his room together with his grandfather. They had him swear not to say a word. They know he wouldn’t, it is in his interest, after all. He lowers his head, feeling a weight in his chest and Yakov’s eyes burning on him. He’s probably waiting to hear him say that he will abort.

“Let’s go home.”

“Yuri, we need to talk.” It’s him. His voice is steady and cold.

“Not now. I just want to go home.”

“Have you decided what to do? You’re not going to keep it, I hope. Think about your career…” he insists and Yuri would like to turn and shout at him that it’s none of his business, except that it is. He knows that well. Yuri is a profitable investment, as long as he skates. Out of the rink he’s nothing.

“I said not now, Yakov!”

A nurse turns around to stare at him in dismay.

“I need time, ok? It’s my life we’re talking about! I’ll let you know as soon as I make a decision.”

His voice is cold and sharp, he shows strength and self-confidence. He turns and walks away with his head held high, without looking back, as though he has the whole situation under control. He doesn’t even wait for his grandfather to sign the discharge form. He just can’t. He knows that if he would stop, he would shatter. And he cannot afford it, because nobody’s there for him to pick up the pieces of his life. He swallows the tears and goes through the glass doors of the lobby. There’s a bite in the air. He shivers. After almost two weeks spent in the hospital, he’s not used to the bitter cold anymore.

His grandfather catches up with him a bit later. The car is parked a few meters away. Yakov follows him like a rabid dog chasing its prey, but Yuri slams the car door behind him before he can reach him. He curls up on the seat and lowers the safety lock. He couldn’t be clearer.

His grandfather gets into the driver’s seat and drives away, leaving Yakov behind. The journey home is long and painful. He feels all the unsaid words weighing on them.

“Yuratchka--”

“Please, _please,_ don’t… I really need time to think.”

Silence falls again. A persistent, oppressing silence.

“I know you’ll do the right thing, Yuri.”

“ _Unlike your mother,_ ” is the implied message that reaches Yuri’s ears loud and clear. Words as heavy as a boulder that get stuck in his chest. As the car finally comes to a stop, Yuri almost thrusts himself out in the snow. Now he needs space to be alone more than ever, the house looks tiny to him. Claustrophobic.

 

The room looks exactly the same as when he left it, or almost. His stuff is in its place, but order has replaced the usual mess. A scent of dust and furniture wax instead of his perfume. Yuri sighs, it’s been more than a year since the last time he was there. He’d hoped to feel at home, there, but he feels like an intruder in a place that doesn’t belong to him. Alone.

He sighs and looks around. There are some photos on the wall, a poster of when he won in the junior division. Medals and cups lined up on the shelves. On his left, a full-length mirror returns his image. He moves closer.

How many hours he’s spent in front of that mirror, trying his dance steps. Whilst his schoolmates were playing in the snow, he was there practicing, perfecting himself. As his friends were having fun free of cares, he was working out, fighting to become a champion. But that very same mirror now returns an image he can hardly recognize. His face looks tired, gaunt. He’s got deep, dark circles under his eyes. The bruise on the cheek has almost disappeared, but still mars his otherwise flawless skin. His hair brushes against his shoulders, straight and soft. His gaze glides lower, along his slender neck, the slim chest, down to his flat stomach. He slowly lifts his T-shirt. His milky white skin stretches over his stomach, over his perfectly defined muscles thanks to endless training sessions. And there, almost undetectable, a soft curve, barely visible above the waistband of his boxers. He turns slightly sideways. Maybe it’s just the bad light, an illusion, his eyes deceiving him. But the curve is still there on his abdomen, just below the navel, almost daring him. Also, the line of his hips going down to his groin is less evident now. His body has started to change.

His hand slides down, his fingers shaking. He hesitates for a second before lightly touching his belly. It’s a delicate touch, unsteady, almost clumsy. It’s too soon to feel anything. But he knows. He knows that there’s a life there, a heart beating. He feels like he is in a dream, or in a nightmare, and he has to decide whether to wake up or keep dreaming.

Three days. Three days to make the most important decision in his life.

He pulls down the T-shirt with a jerk. He strides away from the mirror and throws himself on the bed, his gaze on the ceiling. Why is this decision up to him? After all it’s not his fault. It wasn’t him who put himself in this situation. He couldn’t have known. But someone else could have. Viktor should have figured it out.

It suddenly strikes him. He jumps down from the bed. He’s got a phone, he knows that. It must be somewhere, buried under his stuff. He looks around, there’s a suitcase at the foot of the bed. Yakov must have sent him his belongings. He hurriedly opens and ransacks it, tossing everything on the floor. His grandfather will surely get mad at him, but he doesn’t care. He finds it. The battery is dead. _Of course._ He curses it whilst looking for the charger in the clutter scattered on the floor. The phone takes ages to power up. As soon as the splash screen appears and the phone connects to the network, a flood of texts arrive. The phone doesn’t stop buzzing in his hand. He’s so annoyed he’d like to throw it against the wall: he doesn’t have time for that! Until a name appears on the screen. _Viktor the Cheater._

He bites his lower lip. There are at least 20 texts from him and just as many phone calls. A warm feeling spreads in his chest: maybe he does care about him after all. He opens the chat. The first text dates back to a week ago, just after he was hospitalized.

_“Yurio! The news says you’re in hospital! Are you alright? What happened?”_

He scrolls down.

_“Yurio” Why aren’t you answering? Yakov doesn’t want to tell me what happened!”_

_“Yuri, stop messing about! I’m getting worried!”_

_“Yakov says you just fell. Why aren’t you answering my calls?”_

_“I hope you didn’t do anything foolish!”_

_“Yuri!!”_

_“Answer!”_

A string of emoticons, and then his name repeated several times. The last one is from the day before.

_“I’ll take a flight tomorrow. Answer. I’m worried sick about you.”_

His heart skips a beat. He scrolls the list of contacts and hits the number. One ring is enough, then his voice propagates from the microphone. He feels a warm shiver in the lower abdomen.

_“Yuri!”_ his voice is an octave higher than usual, a mixture of concern mixed with relief, but Yuri feels himself flush all the same. _“What the hell is happening? You had me scared to death! Where are you? Are you okay?”_

“Calm down, dammit! I’m perfectly fine. I just fell. I hit my cheekbone and blacked out. Yakov decided to call an ambulance and have me hospitalized.”

He leaves out the part about pediatrics, that would be too embarrassing. And the last thing he wants is to look like a child in his eyes.

_“And they kept you there for two weeks? Yuri, tell me the truth.”_

“It is true! They had to investigate further to… be sure I hadn’t suffered a cranial concussion, or some shit like that.”

A long silence. Yuri bites the inside of his cheek; on one hand he hopes he’s going to buy it, on the other that he’ll understand he’s lying and run to him.

_“So you’re okay? Nothing compromising at all?”_ There. The words he’s feared the most. Viktor only worrying about his career and nothing more. Just like everyone else.

“Nothing, I’m alright”, his voice breaks, tears fill his eyes. _Stupid._ He doesn’t even know why he’s crying.

“Sorry, I have to go.”

_“Wa--”_

He hangs up before he can say anything else. Before he can hear his sobs. He turns off the phone and curls up on the bed. He hasn’t told him the truth, he couldn’t. Maybe a part of him was afraid of his answer. His reaction. Viktor would have probably told him to have an abortion. He definitely would have.

He brings his hands to the belly, while tears stream down his cheeks.

 

Now he knows.

No way he’s going to give up that sparkle of life that’s growing inside him.


	3. Chapter 3

Yuri half-opens the door and stealthily slips out of his room, then looks around almost holding his breath. His grandfather doesn’t seem to be at home. He’s probably out doing some shopping. He’s probably avoiding him. He heaves a sigh of relief: he spent a hellish night, riddled with nightmares and rude awakenings, and he woke up with the taste of tears in his mouth and a throbbing headache. He couldn’t face his grandfather right now.

They haven’t talked after what his grandfather told him in the hospital, they haven’t had the opportunity to settle things between them, or maybe Yuri hasn’t wanted to give him the chance. The accusations he hurled at him are still burning. He’d sworn to himself he’d never let anyone hurt him like that, yet he would have never seen it coming from the only person in the world he blindly trusted.

 

Yuri heads to the kitchen. It’s late, actually almost lunchtime, and his stomach is complaining loudly. With the new diet they imposed on him in the hospital and the forced bed rest, the nausea is almost gone, but he’s still incredibly sensitive to smells, and the cravings are starting to take their toll.

He opens the fridge door and sticks his head in, looking for something that is included in the list of allowed foods. He’s about to grab the carton of milk, when a bowl of Russian salad draws his attention. His mouth starts watering and his stomach growls, famished. He grasps it and sits at the table. He’d eat it with his hands if he could, but chooses a spoon instead, a slightly more decorous solution. He plunges it into the mixture and fills his mouth with it, almost as if he hadn’t seen any food in months. A moan of sheer pleasure escapes his lips at the first spoonful, and he lies back on the chair, savouring it in raptures: after two weeks of hospital food, it tastes like the most heavenly thing in the world to him.

He’s about to plunge the spoon again, when the ring of the doorbell makes him jump. He frowns. His grandfather wouldn’t ring the bell. And surely none of his acquaintances would call on him there, in his home. It can only be one person. Yakov. He feels a stab in the stomach at the thought. There. He managed to ruin his breakfast as well.

The bells rings again insistently.

 

“Coming, dammit!” he yells in response. He gets up and angrily throws the spoon in the sink. “Bloody Yakov, one of these days I’ll get back at you!” he mutters whilst heading towards the doorway, stomping his bare feet on the parquet. He flings the door open, ready to shout at him that he’s still got two more days to decide, when the words get stuck in his throat from the shock. Victor is standing at the door, his hand raised and about to knock, surprise all over his face. He looks tired, like someone who’s just got through a long flight. His clothes are creased, his hair unkempt. But Yuri finds him attractive all the same, and his stomach gives a delicious twitch.

 

“YURI!” Victor hugs him without giving him time to do or say anything. He holds him tight, burying his face into his neck and Yuri feels himself blush. Then the things Victor told him last night come violently back to his mind, and Yuri pushes him away forcefully, almost as if he didn’t want to be touched, even though it’s all he’s been yearning for these last months.

 

“Yuri, what happened to you?” Victor scrutinises him from head to toe, and he becomes painfully aware he’s wearing an old, faded T-shirt three sizes larger than his and some matted, baby blue pajamas pants. He must look terrible, and he’s deeply ashamed of it, but Victor doesn’t seem to care at all. He lays his eyes on Yuri’s face.

 

“It was true, then,” he murmurs, reaching out to brush his bruised cheek with a light caress. Yuri feels his own skin burn under his touch. Stepping back almost causes him physical pain.

“Of course! What the hell are you doing here?!” he snaps. He’s furious, for some reason. Victor is behaving like a concerned lover, as though he actually felt something for him. But Yuri knows it’s not like that. After all, he left him without even looking back.

“I heard what happened from the news! Do you have any idea how I felt? And yesterday night, after a week of silence, you finally call me and then you hang up on me like that! You had me worried sick!”

 

“How come? I’m nothing to you, am I. Now you have your Japanese pig, you shouldn’t care about what happens to me,” he snaps angrily, before turning around to go back to the kitchen. A part of him hopes he’ll go away and leave him alone, but his hopes get wiped away when he hears Victor shut the door and follow him quickly.

 

“Stop it. You perfectly know I do care about you. I’ve always have, haven’t I?”

 

Yuri feels a shiver run down his spine, and memories flood his mind. It’s true. He knows that very well. He shakes his head, he doesn’t want to let him have his own way.

 

“I don’t think so. Last time I checked, you were flying to Japan like you didn’t give a bloody fuck about me!” He bites his lip, he didn’t want to say that, but it’s too late. He turns around so that he doesn’t have to look at him. He rummages in the drawer, grabs another spoon and sits and the table. “I was having lunch, if you don’t mind, so you might as well go now.”

 

He dips the spoon into the Russian salad, but Viktor grasps him by the wrist before it can reach his lips.

 

“I’ve just got through a five-hour flight just to see how you’re doing, I’m definitely not leaving without an explanation. And what the hell are you eating, anyway? You hate this stuff.”

 

“Do you actually give a shit?”

 

He narrows his eyes and Yuri shudders under his glance. He knows he’s gone too far. Just a few months before, an answer like that wouldn’t have gone unpunished.

 

“Have you forgotten your good manners during these months away from me, Yurio?” His voice is like velvet, warm and soft, but hides a veiled threat. Yuri knows that tone only too well. The memories make him blush.

 

“Don’t call me that.” He gives a tug to free himself from his grasp. “You don’t know me.”

 

A flash sparkles in Victor’s eyes. He almost looks hurt, and Yuri feels guilty about that, yet he gets what he wants. Victor lets go of him.

 

“I just want to know how you feel. How you really feel. I know you hate me because I left, and I’m sorry, but I am really worried about you. Something’s wrong, I can see that. And not only because I left you alone. Tell me what it is, Yuri.”

 

He reaches for his hand, but Yuri steps back. He feels tears burning in his throat. He slips the spoon in his mouth and swallows them along with the salad. They taste bitter.

 

“Nothing’s wrong. Nothing at all,” he mutters, before getting up, resolved on getting Victor out of that house, but he freezes as he hears the sound of the front door opening. His grandfather appears in the kitchen, his arms laden with paper bags out of which fruit, vegetables, and some of Yuri’s favourite junk food were poking. For a moment he just stands on the threshold and stares at them, puzzled. His eyes shift from Yuri to Victor and back to his grandson.

 

“Victor, what a pleasure.” His voice is cold, measured. He’s probably trying to figure out what’s going on.

 

“He’s leaving,” Yuri cuts in, more determined than ever to make him go away.

 

“I’m actually rather tired and I haven’t had the chance of having lunch yet. You see, I’ve come directly from the airport to see how Yuri is doing.” He puts on one of his best deeply-concerned-friend-like smiles and Yuri looks at him, upset. His grandfather, needless to say, completely falls for it.

 

“Of course! You can join us, I just got back after doing the shopping. Be our guest.” He points at a chair and Victor sits down comfortably, ignoring Yuri’s fuming glare.

 

“Yuratchka, please lay the table.”

 

“Ok,” he hisses through his teeth. While his grandfather takes the food necessary for the meal out of the shopping bags, he grabs the tablecloth and sets the dishes. He throws the cutlery at Victor, almost hoping to stab him to death with a fork. In the meanwhile, his grandfather slices some vegetables and prepares a light broth, then opens a package of chicken breasts. The smell of raw meat spreads in the room, almost covering up any other scent. Yuri’s eyes open wide, and he feels his stomach turn at once. He runs for the bathroom, his hand on his nose and mouth, trying not to throw up right there, on the kitchen floor.

 

“Yuri!” Victor springs to his feet and rushes after him out of the room and into the tiny bathroom. Yuri is bent over the toilet, shaken by his stomach’s heaves, while its content washes up back to his throat, burning.

 

“Go away!” He doesn’t know where the strength to yell comes from, but he definitely doesn’t want Victor to see him in this state.

In spite of that, a moment after he feels delicate fingers pulling his hair back, and large, cold hands massaging his back before resting on his nape. The cool feeling helps his stomach settle, and when the nausea is finally gone, Yuri feels tears at the corner of his eyes. He collapses on the floor and hugs his knees to his chest, burying his face in his arms.

 

“Will you tell me what’s going on now?”

 

Victor’s voice is sweet, but there’s a hint of anxiousness that doesn’t escape Yuri’s ears. His hands are still on him. Tears streak Yuri’s cheeks. He doesn’t want to tell him.. He can’t. He fears his reaction too much. The only thing he wants is him going away and leaving him alone.

His grandfather happens to come in right now. His expression is gloomy and there’s concern in his voice.

 

“Again? Yuri… you can’t go on like this, you need to put an end to it.”

 

“What is he talking about?”

 

“You haven’t figured it out yet? Still, it’s all your fault, isn’t it?”

 

Yuri flinches.

 

“Grandpa, stop it…”

 

“No, I want to hear it from his lips. You know, for a moment I was afraid it was Yakov. I’ve always thought he’d set his eyes on you since the first day. But then he came…” He turns to face Victor his eyes narrow, “with your smiles and your way of always looking so innocent. You can see it from a mile away that you are an _alpha_ , no matter how hard you try to conceal it. And from that day, Yuri has changed. I did fear you had found out his secret and had bound him to you.”

 

“Grandpa, no!” Yuri cries, but it’s too late.

 

“What… _secret_?” Victor says with a gasp, awareness making its way through his eyes, just out of the blue, while he stares at Yuri. His gaze is almost painful, filled with surprise and incredulity, and maybe disappointment. Yuri can’t bear it.

 

“Don’t pretend you didn’t know!” Yuri’s grandfather cuts in.

 

“I never did! Yuri! Are you an _omega_?” He curls up even more, and the answer is clear. “Why didn’t you tell me? Had I known, I wouldn’t have– ”

 

“What?! You wouldn’t have slept with me?!” Yuri springs to his own feet, hurt and angry. “You wouldn’t have toyed with me, before leaving me for someone else?!”

 

“You were never a toy to me.”

 

“I was! You just used me! And when you had no use for me any longer, you abandoned me!”

 

Tears are flooding down his cheeks by now. Victor takes him into his arms, and Yuri struggles violently.

 

“Stop talking nonsense.”

 

“Leave me alone! Fuck off! Go back to Japan, to your bloody pig!” he yells at Victor, trying to hit him as best as he can, until his strength fails him and he rests himself against Victor’s chest, sobbing.

 

“Maybe you really should go now,” Yuri’s grandfather’s hard voice cuts in.

 

 

“If I may, at this point I think this is none of your business,” is Victor’s harsh reply.

 

“Oh yes, it is. He’s my grandson.”

 

“And I’m the baby’s father. I think I have a right to stay with him.”

 

Victor doesn’t wait for his answer. He slips an arm under Yuri’s knees and scoops him up as if he didn’t weigh more than a feather, then leaves the bathroom and heads to the adjoining bedroom. He shuts the door behind him and lays Yuri down on the bed, delicately. He sighs.

 

“I’m sorry, if had known I would have been more careful. Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice is sweet, no trace of anger or accusation in it.

 

“I didn’t know. I never did!”

 

“How can that be?”

 

“My grandfather… he gave me suppressors without me knowing. He didn’t want me to make the same mistakes my mother made.” His voice breaks, and Victor strokes his hair gently. He looks so small and delicate, so vulnerable.

 

“You were not a mistake,” he breathes, and those words give Yuri a pang in the chest. “He didn’t have a right to do that anyway. You should have known. This wouldn’t have happened if you had known.”

 

Yuri slaps his hand away angrily. “This is all you care about, isn’t it?! Now you’re stuck with me, is that what you think? Well, you should have figured it out! What’s your excuse?!”

 

“I… how could I have known? He probably gave you doses so strong that it completely wiped out your scent, and you were so sure you weren’t an _omega_. Even when I started to suspect something was wrong, you were always sure about that. You cannot blame me!”

 

“Well, it’s too late now. You’re screwed! We both are.”

 

“So you don’t want to have an abortion?”

 

Surprise is so evident in his voice that it feels like a stab in the chest to Yuri. He turns his face away, he can’t bear to look at him.

 

“I won’t kill a life just so you don’t have to feel stuck with me! You’re free to go to hell if you like! I don’t need you! I’ll raise it alone!”

 

“So you really want to keep it?” Now is voice sounds almost… _happy?_

 

“Of course!”

 

Yuri feels Victor’s arms wrap around his waist, his chest pressing against his back in an intimate hug.

 

“Forgive me. I foolishly thought you wouldn’t want to keep it. Skating has always been everything to you, and this is going to put a stop to your career. I rushed to conclusions, but if this is your decision, I will support you. I’m glad.” He whispers the last words directly into Yuri’s ear, softly and warmly, and Yuri shudders.

 

“Stop making fun of me. Please. I cannot bear it,” he murmurs, his voice tired, exhausted.

 

“I’m not fooling with you, Yuri. I would never. I never have.” Victor lays a delicate kiss on his shoulder. “Haven’t I always taken care of you?” Another kiss. Yuri doesn’t answer. His body stretches under his touch, awakening from a long slumber. “Haven’t I always been by your side when you needed me?” Yet another kiss. His heart beats faster. His cheeks go red. He tilts his head involuntarily, exposing the neck.

 

“You left.” His words are a faint whisper. He bites his lip.

 

“Now it’s different. This is different.”

 

Yuri feels Victor’s hand glide down. They lift the hem of his oversize T-shirt and rest on his warm belly. His heart skips a beat. He gasps.

 

“I’m going to take care of you, Yuri.” he kisses his bruised cheekbone. “I’m going to take care of the both of you.”

 

Tears fill his eyes, and Yuri throws himself in that hug he’s yearned for so long, desperately clinging to him. All his insecurities and fears dissolve into sobs, while Victor lays small, delicate kisses on his nape, his hands gently resting on his belly full of life.

 

“We’re going to be a family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank you all for your comments, they really give me the will to keep writing and posting ^_^ 
> 
> I hope you liked this one as well and that you will keep following the story! 
> 
> A thank to Maple&Shrike my wonderful translators who make this possible, especially this week that they managed to send me the translation despite they were busy with study! You are the best girls!!


	4. Chapter 4

Things hadn’t gone _exactly_ as Yuri had imagined.

Victor had held him tightly till he had stopped crying. He had silently listened to him telling him what had happened in the past week, and his gaze had hardened when he had told him about Yakov and his grandpa trying to convince him to end the pregnancy.

After Yuri had finished talking, he had disappeared behind the door for more than an hour, without saying a word. When he’d come back, he had given him ten minutes to gather all his things before dragging him on a direct flight to Japan.

And so, within 6 hours, he’d found himself back in Hasetsu.

Apparently they had all been worried sick about him for days. Yuuri had even interrupted his training and it was him who welcomed them to Yu-topia.

 

Upon seeing Yuri in the hall together with Victor, the surprised expression on Yuuri’s face melts into a relieved smile.

 

“You’re ok!” he cries out before hugging him, as unexpected as it is unwanted.

 

“Oi! What do you think you’re doing! Let me go!” Yuri shoves him away, annoyed.

 

“Yurio, is that any way to treat someone who has been so worried about you for days?” Victor scolds him, making him flare up even more.

 

“To hell with that. As if I gave a damn,” he exclaims taking off his shoes and throwing them untidily in a corner.

“I’m tired, I just want to sleep. I’m going to my room!” he snaps while passing Yuuri, heading for the door that leads to the bedrooms. But Yuuri’s voice stops him.

 

“Um, Yurio...I’m sorry, but at the moment all bedrooms are booked… it is high season and we had to reserve all the rooms, I didn’t think you would return…”

 

“It’s not a problem, he will sleep with us,” Victor beams, like it was nothing.

 

“WHAT!? I have no intentions of sleeping in the same bedroom as that pig!”

 

“Yurio, don’t be ungrateful. Should I remind you of good manners?” he adds calmly, but also firmly, making him quiver.

 

“No,” he hisses through his teeth, furious.

 

“Excellent.” He comes closer and kisses him on the temple. A little reward for behaving so well. “Let’s go. We have a lot to discuss before getting some rest.”

 

“What do you mean?!” Yuri gasps, suddenly he feels anxious. He hasn’t told anybody about the pregnancy yet. And he didn’t expect to do that so early, _and to him_.

 

“Well, don’t you think he would notice anyway sooner or later?” he asks raising a brow.

 

“What would I notice?” Yuuri cuts in, tidily arranging the shoes of the newcomer, still surprised about the whole situation.

 

“You’ll find out shortly.” Victor puts a hand on his back urging him to move forward, while he gets the luggage, and Yuri feels himself burning with jealousy because of such an insignificant gesture, yet so intimate in his eyes. But he doesn’t talk back, he doesn’t want to be scolded again.

 

When Yuri opens the door of his room he realises that it is probably the first time entering his rival’s bedroom. He is vaguely surprised, he expected the room to be filled with posters of Victor everywhere.

 

“Are you kidding me?!” he then cries out looking around. It is small, with a small double bed, a desk and a wardrobe. “It’s so tiny! There is not enough space for the three of us!”

 

Yuuri smiles at him, bowing apologetically. Something which deeply pisses him of. “Well, yeah, it’s not that big, but I’ve got a futon we can use. For a couple of days this will do, I guess,” he says before heading to the wardrobe to take it out and lay it beside the bed.

 

“Ah! Like hell I’m going to sleep there! Last time was more than enough!” he cries out throwing himself on the bed. “You sleep on the ground, piggy!”

 

“Yurio–”

 

“No, it’s ok, it’s not a problem, really.” Yuuri smiles. “You can have my bed, Yurio.”

 

Victor smiles at him and Yuri hates him even more.

 

“And Victor?” he adds, just to distract their attention from each other.

 

“Well, there is not enough space for another futon…” He doesn’t dare to admit that in the past weeks they have shared the same bed, but the memory of it makes him blush so much that the concept is made clear even without saying it out loud, and this makes Yuri even more furious.

 

“Oh well, I guess I’ll make a sacrifice. He’ll sleep with me!” he snaps. And suddenly he remembers there’s something now that permanently binds Victor to him, now and forever. “Besides, it’s only fair that he sleeps with the mother of his child,” he adds nonchalantly, sneering on the inside while surprise and shock make their way to Yuuri’s face, his eyes darting from him to Victor and vice versa.

 

“Yurio!” the man scolds him dryly.

 

“What? You’re…? Yuuri gasps, speechless.

 

Victor sighs. “This is not how I wanted to tell you. But yes. Yurio is pregnant.”

 

“And...and it’s yours?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Yuuri slumps on the chair near the desk and Yuri smiles, pleased. Now he won’t lay his hands on Victor, that’s for sure. For the first time he really feels contented with his decision. He hadn’t thought about this pleasant side effect.

 

“This… this is great news!” Yuri smiles, but misery is evident in his eyes. “Congratulations.”

 

He stands up and heads for the door at a brisk pace, but Victor stops him. “Yuuri, wait. Are you ok?”

 

“Yes, sure, why wouldn’t I? I’m happy for you.” He doesn’t stop smiling but his voice quavers. “Excuse me, I have to go and help Mari with the customers… you two can take a bath before dinner if you want…”

 

“Yuuri.”

 

“I really need to go,” he mutters, before slipping out of his grasp and hurriedly going out of the room.

 

Yurio gloats silently on the bed, but his smugness is swept away by the glare that Victor casts at him.

 

“You should have been more considerate towards him, Yurio.” His voice is like honey, but Yuri knows he’s in trouble.

 

“I said stop calling me that! And it was you who said he had to know.”

 

“Not like this.”

 

“What difference does that make?”

 

“It does.” Victor sighs running his hand through his hair. Yuri follows the movement, spellbound. For a moment he forgets he’s angry at him.

 

“What should I do with you?” his tone drops an octave while he reaches out to grab his chin gently, but also firmly. Yuri holds his breath while his heart speeds up. “I want you to be good with Yuuri, understood?” he whispers, just a few millimetres away from his lips. His breath is hot and Yuri feels his body throbbing longingly. “In a few days there will be the Cup of China and he needs to focus. Do you think you can do that, Yuri?” he asks. The way he pronounces his name, with a thick Russian accent, is completely different from the singsong way he calls the other Yuuri. Hearing that sends a shiver down his spine. He nods.

 

“Good boy.” Victor smiles, and Yuri instantly realises that he has fallen for it once again, but his reward is not far behind. Victor closes the distance between them and kisses him on the lips.

 

It’s not the kind of fiery and passionate kiss Yuri wanted, but still his body reacts and he thrusts himself forward to look for more, but Victor is already pulling away.

 

“More…” he pleads, looking at him with burning desire.

 

“You sure are greedy,” Victor teases eyeing him up and down “You’ll get more if you play nice,” he whispers while caressing his lower lip with the thumb, eagerness evident in his eyes. “Now I have to make up for what you’ve done,” he adds before drawing back. His words have the power to fill him up with questions and jealousy. While watching him go out, he can’t help but ask himself how Victor will fix what he has done.

 

***

 

“Okaa-san, have you seen Yuuri?” Viktor asks as he walks into the lobby. Hiroko gives him one of her maternal smiles.

 

“I think he’s in the storage room, dear,” she tells him sweetly.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“He seemed upset when I saw him. Has anything happened?” she inquires then, slightly concerned.

 

“We’ll get to talk about that, but for now it’s nothing you need to worry about,” he replies with one of his beaming smiles. The woman nods, and Victor resumes his search.

 

Yuuri is actually in the small, packed storage room of Yu-Topia. He’s got his back to Victor, but the latter can clearly see him tremble, he’s probably crying.

 

“Yuuri,” he says, his voice is a soft whisper, while he kneels down behind him and takes him into his arms. Yuuri starts and hastily wipes his cheeks.

 

“V-Victor! You shouldn’t be here…” he stammers, trying to sound normal.

 

“We need to talk, Yuuri.”

 

“I… have some work to do, I’m sorry… could you please let me go?” he asks, wiggling out of his hug. He manages to get up, but Victor grabs him by the wrist.

 

“Please, at least let me explain. I truly didn’t want you to find it out this way.”

 

Yuuri bites his bottom lip. “And how were you going to tell me then?”

 

“I don’t know,” Victor replies with a heavy sigh.

 

“Did you want it?” he asks with an unsteady voice, fearing the answer.

 

“No! Not at all! It was a surprise. Well, a shock more than a surprise-”

 

Yuuri remained silent for a long moment, struggling. Eventually he nods. “I’d figured out there was something between the two of you, but not this. I would’ve never guessed,” he murmured.

 

“I had no idea Yurio was an omega, I swear. Even though now many things make sense, things I couldn’t understand before.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Victor runs a hand over his face, sighing. “It’s a long story.” He sits on a can of pickled daikon. “Sit down, please, there are many things I need to explain to you.”

 

Yuuri complies silently.

 

“I don’t want to lie to you. I can’t say I haven’t been attracted to him in the past, or that I’m not, even now. That wouldn’t be true. But I didn’t look for this. It was totally unexpected.”

 

“When did it start? Yuuri asked. He doesn’t really want to ask these questions, yet he can’t refrain.

 

“When we skated together back in Russia. I’d known Yurio for years, he’d always been a difficult boy. But then something happened. He changed overnight. Suddenly he couldn’t focus during training sessions, he flubbed his jumps and was always irritable and frustrated. At that time, I thought it was because of his frequent mistakes. Now I know it was due to his first heat. I feel dumb for not figuring it out. Not noticing the regularity of those _dark periods_ of his.”

 

“How come nobody ever noticed?”

 

“His grandfather has been giving him suppressors for years without him knowing, backed by Yakov.”

 

Yuuri was shocked, his mouth wide open. “It can’t be! Without ever taking him to the doctor and having him visited?”

 

“Apparently so. He’s been insane. They both have. It’s a miracle they haven’t caused him any permanent damages.” Yuuri nods, still shocked. “Without a prescription, he must have given the suppressors to Yurio randomly. And without a dosage, they have affected him only partially, that’s why he was always so irritable.”

 

“So he got pregnant, even though he was taking them?”

 

“I believe so. The drugs have inhibited his pheromones and suppressed the strongest symptoms, yet they weren’t enough to get rid of the lust and actually be effective as a contraceptive. Yurio was like an agonising animal, unable to understand what was happening to him and how to deal with it. That was what led him to seek comfort in the one person he trusted back then.”

 

“You?”

 

Victor shakes his head sadly. “Yakov.”

 

Yuuri catches his breath in surprise. He’s feeling disgusted at the mere thought of a young and innocent Yurio seduced and abused by that slimy old man. “You don’t mean that–”

 

“Fortunately not. I managed to figure out his intentions just in time. But I cannot quite blame Yakov. One must be blind not to feel attracted by Yurio, or dead not to react in front of him. Especially in those moments, when he’s in his full heat.” Victor sighs. “So it started, between him and me. I’m not trying to justify myself, or play the saviour role. I know that I probably shouldn’t have done what I did. I know he was young, and our age gap is too big. But I couldn’t resist him. Yurio knows very well how to get what he wants.” He lifted his gaze to meet Yuuri’s. There is pity and regret, but also love and a deep affection for that snotty kid, whom Yuuri now sees in a completely new light.

 

“But there’s more.”

 

Yuuri wonders what else there can be.

 

“What I am about to tell you cannot leave this room, promise me,” he adds looking at him intensely. “I trust you. I want to trust you because I want you to be part of my life, you know that. But in order to do so you have to also meet this part of me.”

 

Yuuri nods, now he’s scared, Viktor is speaking so gravely that he fears what he’s about to reveal to him. He fears it could change the way he sees him. The feelings he has for him. But he cannot back out now, so he finds himself nodding.

 

“To understand what I’m about to tell you, you need to understand Yurio and his past as well. His story is not a happy one. His mother abandoned him right after he was born. His father left even before his birth. He grew up without a family, in his grandfather’s care, who, even though he dearly loves Yurio, will never be able to replace the parents he never had. And without guidance, Yurio has grown up to be intolerant of any form of authority. You saw that yourself.”

 

Yuuri nods. He perfectly remembers the insolent way the boy addresses him, Victor, and even Yakov.

 

“This behaviour of his got worse when he first went into heat. He was feeling confused and lost, and the only thing he wanted, that he still wants, is someone who guides him. Someone who tells him what’s right and what’s wrong. Who sets limits and rules for him.” Viktor stops, and gazes at him intensely. “Yurio needs to be… dominated.”

 

Yuuri looks at him, shocked. His breath gets stuck in his throat. That simple word feels like a bucket of cold water in his face. “What?”

 

“Please, don’t think ill of it.” Victor takes Yuuri’s hands in his, but he pulls back. For the first time he’s afraid of Victor. “It’s nothing horrible, violent, or wicked. It’s more like limitations to help him focus on what he’s doing, on skating, and not on other things. You know very well how hard it is to concentrate in those moments, despite the suppressors.”

 

Yuuri hesitates, then nods slowly. He perfectly knows that.

 

“When he behaves himself, he gets rewarded. When he acts up and yields to his instincts, he gets punished.”

 

“Are you saying that you beat him?!” Yuuri jerks back, upset. He can’t believe his own ears.

 

“No! Of course not! It’s not _that_ kind of punishments! I would never do that!” His voice is dripping sadness at the thought that Yuuri could believe something like that about him.

 

“What then?”

 

“It’s hard to explain.”

 

“Well, try!” Yuuri snaps folding his arms on his chest, as if putting up a barrier between them.

 

Victor rubs his temples in frustration. “It’s more like denying him what he wants, be it a kiss, a caress, or using his toys…”

 

“What toys?” Yuuri asks in a whisper, almost sure Victor is not talking about stuffed animals and dolls.

 

“I don’t think you’re ready to know.”

 

Yuuri pulls back, and turns his back to him. “I can’t believe it,” he whispers in shock.

 

“It seems horrible, but it’s absolutely not what you think.” Victor lightly touches his shoulders, he’d like to hug him, but the last thing he wants is to frighten him and see him run away.

 

“I don’t think so.”

 

“If only…” He bites his tongue and Yuuri stiffens, nervous.

 

“What?”

 

“If only… you’d let me show you...” he whispers, gently pressing himself against him, sliding his hands along Yuuri’s arms in a caress that makes him shiver in spite of the situation. “You’d understand that there’s nothing sick about what I do…” he adds, laying the most delicate kiss on his shoulder. “You’d understand how Yurio feels…” His voice is a whisper on his skin, preceding another kiss, more intense. Yuuri’s body reacts to his touch, even though he doesn’t want it.

 

“He wasn’t as lucky as you,” he goes on, moving towards his ear. He sucks the delicate skin in that spot and Yuuri moans, unable to restrain himself. “Nobody ever told him what was happening to him.” He slides his hand down his chest, lightly touches his nipples without actually giving him anything satisfying. “His body was burning with lust and he didn’t know why.” He presses a hand on his crotch, without really touching him, driving him mad. “Can you imagine that?” he asks, his voice deep and hot. “Can you imagine being able to focus? Training in this state?” Yuuri pushes back his pelvis against him. He can clearly feel Victor’s erection pressing against his bottom and moans. His body is filled with burning desire.

 

“No…” he whispers, the only thing Yuuri can think of is having Victor inside of himself.

 

“Exactly.” Victor pushes against him, making him moan again. “And Yurio was just a little boy.”

 

Yuuri feels him tug at the buttons of his jeans before pulling them down together with the underwear, exposing his bare butt and his pulsing erection. Then he’s at it again.

 

“Do you trust me?” his voice is hot and passionate, almost vulnerable. Yuuri nods slowly. “Say it.”

 

“Yes...”

 

“Yes, what?” he urges.

 

“Yes, I do trust you,” he gasps, breathless, swaying his hips against him, seeking relief. He has never seen that side of him, and reluctantly he has to admit he finds him tremendously exciting.

He can almost feel Victor’s smile behind his back. And a second later he’s making him put the arms upwards. He makes him lean his palms against the wall.

 

“Now you must not touch yourself.” Victor whispers in his ear. It’s an order. But the tone he uses to give it makes his knees weak. “Do you think you can do this for me?” he asks softly, kissing his neck.

 

Yuuri nods feverishly. He would do anything for him. Anything, to have more. Victor shifts behind him. His hips pull away and Yuuri moans in protest. But a moment later Victor’s large hands are on him, feeling his body with long caresses, causing him to shiver and moan. He’s so turned on that he’s dripping even if Victor hasn’t touched him yet.

 

“You’re so beautiful…” he murmurs, admiring him from behind, while he runs a finger down his spine infinitely slowly. He takes his time to study every little bulge of his vertebrae, one by one. And the more he comes closer to the spot Yuuri desperately wants him to touch, the more he slows down, drawing moans of frustration from him. When he finally reaches his opening and pushes inside of him, the sensation is so intense that Yuuri moans arching his back, unable to contain himself.

 

“Does it hurt?” Victor asks softly, and Yuuri shakes his head vigorously.

 

“No…”

 

“Good.” Victor smiles, before pressing a second finger against his opening, forcing his way in slowly yet relentlessly.

Feeling him stretch beneath him makes him quiver with pleasure: that’s the kind of control he likes to exercise over him. And over Yurio.

He pushes deep inside him with slow and steady movements, arousing him, taking him to his climax. Beyond his shoulder he can see Yuuri’s erection throb, red and swollen, and he knows that Yuuri is going to yield soon. He doesn’t have to wait a long time: after a few seconds, Yuuri reaches down to touch himself, but Victor prevents him from doing that.

 

“Nuh–uh, you must stay still, remember?” he scolds, and stops moving his fingers inside him as if punishing him for his disobedience. Yuuri complains and pushes back, but Victor bends his wrist, denying him what he wants. “You’re so impatient,” he whispers, placing his thumb in the tiny space behind his testicles and rubbing gently. Yuuri lifts his hand again, and rests completely against the wall, breathless, as his pleasure slightly ebbs. As soon as he’s calm down, Victor resumes his movements, in and out, more swiftly. In a short time he has him almost reach the orgasm, just to stop again and let him drop from his climax for the second time. And he keeps torturing him again and again, until Yuuri finds himself utter rambling pleads.

 

“Please… Victor, _please_!” He moans, his body shaking with pleasure, and Victor smiles smugly. Seeing him in that state is sending excited shivers down his spine. His cock throbs in his tight trousers, but he easily ignores it. That moment is for Yuuri alone.

 

“Do you want to come, Yuuri?” he whispers in his ear, caressing his groin without really touching him, an action that makes him wriggle deliciously.

 

“Yes...yes, please!” he begs and Victor smiles, pleased.

 

“You can come.” murmurs. “Come for me, Yuuri.”

 

He presses the middle finger deeply inside him and leans the other hand on his pubes, the thumb pressing against his erection, barely squeezing, while slowly pushing down. Yuuri feels a discharge of pleasure electrocuting his whole body. That fleeting stroke is enough for him to reach his peak. He arches beneath him, his mouth wide open emitting a silent moan, his pelvis pressed back against his hand, while his sperm squirts hard on the wall in front of him.

 

Victor holds Yuuri as the orgasm shakes him, forcing him on his knees, the fingers still inside him.

They both slide down. Yuuri pants, completely exhausted and still trembling and upset by such an intense pleasure. That has probably been the best orgasm of his life and Victor wasn’t even fucking him properly.

 

“Are you alright? Victor asks him sweetly, stroking his forehead and cheeks. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Yuuri shakes his head, seeking Victor’s face with eyes dimmed with pleasure, getting a smile from him.

 

“Good boy,” Victor praises him, kissing him lovingly. “Very good. I almost didn’t even have to touch you,” he adds pleased, cradling him in his arms. And Yuuri feels oddly proud of himself, in a twisted way, maybe, and wrong, but wonderful. A new feeling, unknown and unexpected.

 

“Is this what you do to him?” he suddenly asks, turning around enough to see his face. Victor gazes at him intensely.

 

“This is just a small part of it, there’s much more. But let’s say it’s a start.” Yuuri nods. He feels somehow relieved. Now he understands how they got into that strange relationship. He understands how Yurio must have felt, and the relief Victor must have given him in those hard times. If before he couldn’t think of anything but to have Victor inside him, now he feels so pleased, satisfied and tired that the thought doesn’t even cross his mind.

 

“The baby…” he begins, after a long silence, while Victor stands up, leaving him on the floor in order to clean the mess on the wall. “Do you want to keep it?” asks, and the other stops for a second before turning to look at him.

 

“Yes”.

 

Yuuri lowers his gaze.

 

“I don’t want to abandon Yurio again, now I know I can’t do it. And I don’t want to give up on this baby.” Upon hearing this, Yuuri’s shoulders bend.

 

“I understand.”

 

“But I don’t want to leave you either,” he murmurs, kneeling at his side and wrapping his arms around him in a delicate hug, almost as if he fears Yuuri’s reaction. But Yuuri doesn’t move. He doesn’t draw back.

 

“I want you both.”

 

Yuuri holds his breath. He remains silent for a moment, a moment that seems forever to Victor, before speaking up.

 

“I don’t know if I can do it,” he admits barely lifting his eyes on him, almost like he wants to apologise, to beg for forgiveness for his uncertainty. He would give his heart and soul to stay with Victor, to be part of his world, even just for another day, but that is a huge step. It’s something he had never even taken into account, despite knowing very well that polygamy between alphas and omegas is an actual thing in their world. But in spite of his uncertainty, Victor smiles softly, surprising him.

 

“I know,” he whispers, gently caressing his cheek. “But can you make an effort? Can you at least consider this possibility?” he asks, looking at him intensely. And Yuuri is able to catch a glimpse of fear in his eyes, fear of losing him, of being rejected. For the first time he feels he’s the one who is desired, sought-after. He realises Victor wants him as much as he does, and this awareness is so new and unexpected that he finds himself nodding weakly.

 

“Yeah, I can try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone how left a review to the previous chapters, you really made me happy! And I hope you'll keep following the story and leaving comments to me! 
> 
> A special thanks goes to Maple&Shrike, who managed to translate this chapter despite they are going though a troublesome period!   
> And to Shelley, who beta-readed this for me!


	5. Chapter 5

“I don’t want to abandon Yurio again, now I know I can’t do it. And I don’t want to give up on this baby.” Upon hearing this, Yuuri’s shoulders bend.

 

“I understand.”

 

“But I don’t want to leave you either,” he murmurs, kneeling at his side and wrapping his arms around him in a delicate hug, almost as if he fears Yuuri’s reaction. But Yuuri doesn’t move. He doesn’t draw back.

 

“I want you both.”

 

Yuuri holds his breath. He remains silent for a moment, a moment that seems forever to Victor, before speaking up.

 

“I don’t know if I can do it,” he admits barely lifting his eyes on him, almost as if he wants to apologise, to beg for forgiveness for his uncertainty. He would give his heart and soul to stay with Victor, to be part of his world, even just for another day, but that is a huge step. It’s something he had never even taken into account, despite knowing very well that polygamy between alphas and omegas is an actual thing in their world. But in spite of his uncertainty, Victor smiles softly, surprising him.

“I know,” he whispers, gently caressing his cheek. “But can you make an effort? Can you at least consider this possibility?” he asks, looking at him intensely. And Yuuri is able to catch a glimpse of fear in his eyes, fear of losing him, of being rejected. For the first time he feels he’s the one who is desired, sought-after. He realises Victor wants him as much as he does, and this awareness is so new and unexpected that he finds himself nodding weakly.

 

“Yeah, I can try.”

****

 

When, later that evening, everybody gathers around the table for a sumptuous Japanese dinner, the change between the two of them doesn’t go unnoticed by Yuri. The misery and grief that he had seen in Yuuri’s eyes a few hours earlier is now completely gone, replaced by complicity and that distinctive deep love, almost close to worship.

 

Yuri feels the blood boiling in his veins, as he angrily stabs a black cabbage roll. For a moment, he had thought he’d won. He had flattered himself that the news of his pregnancy would be enough to shatter whatever is between them. But he was wrong. Gosh, he really was.

 

He shoves the roll in his mouth and chews it slowly, scowling at Yuuri, his mind filled with questions and conjectures. He cannot stop thinking about what Victor may have done to make him change his mood that fast. And when he lays his eyes on that tiny, yet perfectly recognisable red mark on his neck, suddenly everything makes sense.

 

Jealousy sweeps him away like a tidal wave. It consumes his stomach, his mind. He roughly slams the chopsticks on the table, startling everybody. Silence falls and all eyes are on him.

 

“I’m done,” he growls, abruptly standing up, the food left untouched on the dish. He cannot bear staying there any longer.

 

Victor is about to reply, maybe to stop him, but he doesn’t give him the chance. He strides out of the room, his heartbeat accelerating, blood pulsing in his ears. When he realises he cannot hide in his room anymore, he feels like suffocating. He’ll be forced to spend the night with the other two, after Victor has cheated on him so openly for the umpteenth time. The very thought makes him dizzy. He angrily flings the door open and throws himself on the bed, struggling.

 

He doesn’t want to suffer again, but inside of him there’s a storm of contrasting feelings. Since he got pregnant, everything seems amplified. Not only smells and sounds, but feelings too. Things that only used to slightly annoy him now make him burst out greatly. Things that made him melancholic now throw him in a pit of despair, and things that gave him joy now fill his eyes with tears of happiness. It’s like constantly having uncovered nerves. It’s exhausting and scary and makes him feel lost, adrift.

 

In that very moment, with his mind poisoned by jealousy and hatred towards that inane boy who has somehow stolen the only person for whom he has ever felt love, the only thought he can grasp is revenge. Focussing on that single thought helps him calm down. His rage ebbs away as he looks around, seeking the perfect way to get back at him. He wants him to suffer, he wants to wreck him, to crush him.

 

His glance lays on all the prizes, the medals that are gathered in a corner of the room, a result of a life filled with sacrifices. _“It’s not even half of what I have,”_ he thinks, pleased. He could steal them. He could take them all and throw them into the ocean. It would give him great satisfaction, throwing the awards of his miserable career into the ocean. Just imagining it makes his mouth twist in a sneer, but the thought of how angry Victor would be, if he were to do such a thing, snaps him back to reality.

 

He stretches on the bed. No, he needs to find something better. He buries his face in the pillow and sighs, thoughtful. An all-too-familiar scent fills his nostrils. Expensive cologne and white moss shampoo. He smiles unconsciously, pushing the nose against the pillowcase. Memories flood his mind, so vivid they seem real. Memories of beds and bed sheets. Hotel rooms or hostels in which countless nights of passion have been consumed. His body heats up and arches. He presses his pelvis against the mattress and a moan escapes his lips.

 

A memory stands out more than the others. A modern, minimalist flat, charmingly furnished. The priceless view on Red Square, painted white by the snow. A large four-poster bed. Snow-white silk sheets. And that perfume everywhere.

 

He closes his eyes. He sighs. Victor seems so close.

His breath shakes. He lets his hand wander down to touch himself, but he doesn’t do it. He stops just before reaching the waist of his trousers. He clutches the sheets and moans, frustrated. He could, though. He could definitely do it. But his hand doesn’t move. He has never yielded during all those months, not even once. Not even when he would wake up hot and wet after a red-light dream, not even when he was dying to do it.

 

He does not intend to give in now.

He rubs his painful erection against the mattress, deeply inhaling Victor’s scent, which permeates the sheets, and then the sudden realisation of what that means leaves him breathless. Victor’s scent is everywhere in that room and in that bed. Yuri opens his eyes wide, how could he not realise it sooner?

Now he can see it clearly. There’s another scent mixed with Victor’s, a sweeter fragrance, less masculine but equally strong. A scent of wood, maybe, and thermal waters. His breath gets stuck in his throat and he jerks back. He can’t believe he has almost touched himself on that bed, that bed in which, only now he realises, Victor has cheated on him with another man for who knows how many nights.

He feels disgusted and hurt and guilty when he jolts on his feet, almost as if the bed had suddenly caught fire.

 

_“Fucking cheating bastard!”_ he thinks furiously, staring at the bed sheets as if he could burn them down with just a glare. His wish for revenge is now stronger than ever. He cannot physically harm that pig, he knows it well. Even though he would desperately like to kick him and leave him breathless. But there are other ways in which he could harm him. Better ways. “ _I’ll make you experience how it feels! I’ll make you pay for that_!”

 

Now that he’s made his decision, determination replaces his blind rage. He opens his suitcase and ransacks it, looking for his pyjamas. He grimaces as he comes across the shapeless baby blue pants he used to wear at home. He has no intention of letting anyone see him in that state again. Never ever. He sticks them back in the bottom and chooses a close-fitting, black T-shirt with a print on its front instead. A smile spreads across his lips upon finding a pair of leopard print boxers tidily folded in a corner. A gift from Victor that gained him a night of sheer pleasure.

He undresses hastily, deliberately throwing his clothes on the futon beside the bed, his boxers right on the pillow. He shivers slightly and regrets his warm bedroom back in Moscow. He quickly puts the T-shirt and the underwear on and looks at himself in the mirror: the stretch fabric hugs him perfectly, highlighting his lean, well-defined body. The tight boxers emphasise his long, straight legs and the soft curve of his bottom. He carefully fixes his hair. Sure, he’d rather fling himself onto the bed buck naked and let Victor find him; he knows, though, that this behaviour wouldn’t be much appreciated, so he nods absentmindedly. That’s a satisfactory compromise, he decides.

Before moving away, he indulges a moment, his eyes lingering on his belly. He touches it lightly with his fingers. It seems bigger. It’s impossible, he knows that, but that doesn’t change the feeling. He rests both his palms on that barely visible curve in a protective gesture. He open his mouth as if he wants to say something, some sweet words for that unborn baby, but they get stuck in his throat. He blushes and mentally kicks himself while hastily moving away from the mirror.

 

He bends over the suitcase again and grabs his perfume before heading to the futon. He sprays a generous amount on the pillow and just as much on the bed. It’s a girlish trick, he’s aware of that, but he can’t help it. He wants Yuuri to smell his perfume on his stuff, exactly as he did. He wants to insinuate doubt in his mind. Mark his territory.

Then he slips into bed and lays down, trying to repress his repulsion at the thought of what there could be on them.

He covers himself up to his shoulders, but deliberately leaves his back and bottom uncovered. He sniggers, thinking of Yuuri’s face when he’ll see him on the bed in all his glory, knowing that Victor will sleep with him that night. The thought lulls him until he hears the door open. His heart speeds up. He shuts his eyes and tries to even his breath to seem asleep.

 

“Oh–” Victor’s surprised voice wafts towards him, he probably expected to find him awake and wreaking havoc in the room in a fit of rage. He probably _didn’t_ expect a nice close-up of his bottom clad in _those_ boxers.

 

_“Screwed,”_ he thinks, smiling inwardly.

 

“He must have been utterly exhausted.” It’s the piggy’s quiet voice. Yuri strenuously forces himself not to grit his teeth and clench his fists, even though it’s extremely hard. There’s a rustling of sheets that are moved to properly cover him.

He curses mentally. Not what he expected.

The mattress shifts beneath him, under a body’s weight. There’s a long silence, then fingers run through his hair, warm and delicate. Yuri freezes, surprised. Those hands touching him are not Victor’s.

 

“It must have been horrible for him. I cannot even imagine how he must have felt, facing something like that all alone, with no help or support beside him.” His voice is filled with a compassion and empathy that Yuri cannot understand. He should hate him. He should be jealous of him, want to see him dead. _He_ does, he has loathed him since the very first day they met. But Yuuri has never shared that feeling. He has never even reacted to his provocations and insults. Why? He doesn’t really get it.

 

“You’re making me feel even worse,” Victor murmurs.

 

“I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

 

Yuri hears other noises, light steps. That baffling touch disappears. The weight moves away from the mattress.

 

“No, you’re right, I should have stayed by his side,” Victor whispers, and he sounds so guilty and sorrowful as he says those words, that Yuri feels pain in his chest. “I left him alone, without even providing an explanation. I left without looking back, without a word.”

 

Yuri hears clothes rustling and a long sigh. He aches to turn around and see what’s going on, but he can’t, it’s too late now.

 

“You are with him now. This is what matters. And you’re going to take care of both him and the baby.” A moment of silence, then a moist sound that sets his heart racing makes his throat feel tight.

 

“This doesn’t change what I did.”

 

“Maybe not, but it’s a good way to make up for it. Don’t let the past tear you down, just try to improve the future. You taught me that, remember?”

 

A soft laughter fills the room.

 

“Thank you.” Yuri can almost _hear_ Victor’s smile. There are other noises. Muffled steps, rustlings. But all Yuri can feel is the blood rushing in his ears and his heart pounding in his chest.

When he finally feels the mattress shift beside him, his mind is so crowded with thoughts that he has completely forgotten about his revenge schemes. All he can think about are Yuuri’s words, and how he seemed to be pushing Victor towards him.

 

“Goodnight.”

 

“Oyasumi.”

 

The smack of a kiss startles him. Then Victor is finally lying by his side. He feels him stretch his muscles heaving a sigh of relief, as he always does before going to bed. Then he turns sideways and wraps his arm around Yuri’s waist. He entangles his own legs with Yuri’s and presses his chest against Yuri’s back, spooning perfectly behind him. Yuri catches his breath, taken by surprise. He can feel Victor’s heat through the thin fabric of his T-shirt and deeply regrets not shedding it as well. It’s been so long since the last time they’ve been so close that he’s almost crying with joy. Being enveloped in that warmth is profoundly reassuring and unbelievably exciting at the same time.

His cheeks flush as his body inevitably reacts to that contact. His groin stirs, and he wants to touch himself more than ever.

Victor’s breathing is heavy and even against his nape. He bites his lower lip. _“Just a bit,”_ he thinks, pushing his hips backwards against him. He won’t wake him up if he’s careful enough. But feeling Victor’s cock, although soft, pressing against his bottom, rips a moan from his lips. He shifts slightly, tilting his hips into a better position before pushing again against him unable to stop. The fabric of his boxers prevents him from feeling him the way he’d like to, yet in a short time he finds himself lustfully grinding against him, panting heavily.

It doesn’t take long for him to feel Victor bulge against him and the sensation takes his breath away. A moan escapes his lips. He wants him so badly it hurts. He doesn’t even remember the last time he had him. _Really had him_.

He’s about to reach down and touch himself, when Victor’s breathing alters suddenly and his hand grabs Yuri’s hips, immobilising him.

 

“What are you doing, Yurio? His voice is low and deep, measured, but the effort he’s putting into restraining himself is strong and evident.

 

“I’m not doing anything,” he whispers, barely moving, unable to stay still despite Victor’s grasp. “I’m not even touching myself,” and it’s the truth. He’s not doing that, he’s doing nothing wrong.

 

“Oh, on the contrary. Yuuri is right beside us and you–” Yuri pushes himself back forcefully, pressing against Victor’s throbbing erection.

 

“Don’t talk about him,” he hisses.

 

“Jealous much?”

 

Yuri grits his teeth, as if it isn’t clear enough!

 

“You have no reason to be, I’m right here with you, am I not? Am I not hugging you?” he says, his breath caressing Yuri’s neck. He really is about to answer back, but Victor’s mouth traps his skin in a searing kiss, and he forgets anything he wanted to say.

He groans and wriggles against him, but Victor doesn’t seem willing to let go of him, he’s holding him still against the mattress while passionately devouring his neck.

Every touch seems to set Yuri’s skin on fire. His whole body burns with desire. With the need to have him.

 

“Please…” he begs, perfectly knowing that Victor cannot resist him when he does that. And, as expected, he feels Victor pushing decidedly against him, causing a surprised and pleased giggle to escape his lips.

 

“Shh, you wouldn’t want to wake Yuuri up, would you?” Victor whispers in his ear, before licking his lobe and pressing his hard penis to his buttocks, and Yuri moans shamelessly. He has no intention of restraining himself. Not after all that time. He doesn’t care at all about waking Yuuri. Let him wake up! Let him hear! Let him know that Victor doesn’t belong to him and never will.

 

“Please... Victor.” His voice is broken by desire as he moves feverishly. His penis is so hard it hurts. He desperately aches to touch himself, yet he knows he can’t. Even just pressing against the mattress would do. _Anything_ would do. But Victor is still holding his hips, preventing him from finding any relief.

 

“Not so fast,” he whispers.

 

It’s been so long since the last time that Yuri feels he’s already gone too far. Victor forces him to slightly spread his legs so that he cannot ease his frustration. Yuri reaches back and digs his nails into his lover’s thigh, out of spite, getting him to move faster and deeper. They’re not even naked, Victor is not even inside him, but he doesn’t care. He can feel his hot breath on his shoulder. His heat wraps him completely. He’s probably not going to last long either.

Victor’s hand slides down from his hip to his groin. Not close enough to actually touch him, but it still sends intense shivers of pleasure down his spine that shake him, leaving him breathless.

Yuri comes, untouched, in his leopard print boxers, with a long moan, a mixture of pleasure and frustration. He’s only dimly aware of Victor hurriedly pulling down his underwear, exposing his tight bottom. He feels him grind spasmodically. A few swift caresses, then a sensation, hot and wet, on his lower back that makes him sigh…

 

Victor pants heavily for a few seconds, his forehead pressed between his shoulder blades, before leaning up to kiss his temple.

 

“You’re always such a good boy,” he breathlessly praises him.

 

Yuri feels his fingers on his back. He then trails them on the semen, spreading it on Yuri’s skin. Yuri almost purrs at this deliciously intimate sensation. Victor plays in that way for some minutes, then collects a little bit of it and fingers the opening, making him open his eyes wide in surprise. He pokes just enough to let in the fingertip covered in sticky warm liquid, almost as if he is applying some kind of palliative ointment.

 

“What are you doing?” Yuri gasps.

 

“Did you touch yourself here while I was away?” Victor asks him grimly, slightly pushing inside him, though not enough to penetrate him.

 

“No…” he murmurs, his stomach tingling with excitement.

 

“Did you let someone else touch you?” The pressure gets more intense, taking his breath away.

 

“No!” he retorts immediately, upset at the idea he could even just think that.

 

Victor smiles and removes his hand, leaving him trembling and unsatisfied. He carefully lifts his boxers back into place and takes him into his arms.

 

“Hm… Such a good boy…” he whispers kissing his nape. “You deserve a reward for behaving so well during all this time,” he adds, and Yuri stirs, already hard again, in his still damp boxers.

 

“What reward?” he asks breathlessly, grinding slightly against him.

 

“What would you like?” Victor’s voice is soft against his nape, a drowsy whisper.

 

Yuri frantically tries to come up with something he could obtain right now. He blushes. Victor didn’t give him enough time to grab anything he could ask him to use now.

 

“A film!” he eventually blurts out, just as Victor’s breathing is starting to get dangerously slow and deep.

 

Behind him, Victor furrows his brow.

 

“Really? Is that all?” He seems more awake now.

 

Yuri nods, his cheeks burning. “I want to watch a film with you… as we did back in Russia,” he murmurs, and Victor smirks naughtily, as he grasps the real meaning behind that request.

 

“I thought you’d want to play with your toys.”

 

“You didn’t give me time to take them before leaving,” he replies, pouting.

 

Victor chuckles lightly behind him. “I’m sorry, I’ll redeem myself, I promise.”

 

Yuri quivers, that situation is taking a wonderful turn, completely to his advantage.

 

“Really?”

 

“Hm mh…”

 

“Now?” he asks hopefully.

 

“No. It’s late. There will be time. Now sleep.” Victor whispers, burying his face into Yuri’s hair, before falling asleep in an incredibly short time.

 

_“Damned Victor!”_ he thinks for the umpteenth time in that night, as he shuts his eyes and tries to slow down his furious heartbeat.

 

 

 

 

 

Lying on the futon at the foot of the bed, Yuuri stares at the ceiling, wide-eyed, his lips half-open, breathing heavily and with a painful erection between his thighs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who left me a review, I love read your thoughts about my story, and it makes me super happy to see that so many of you are enjoying it!
> 
> A special thanks also to Maple&Shrike, love those girls, because if it wasn't for them, this wouldn't have been possible!


	6. Chapter 6

The morning after, the alarm goes off far too early for Yuuri, who was able to get to sleep only at the crack of dawn.

On the contrary, Yuri seems to be in a good mood while he gets up, missing him by a hair. He changes quickly, choosing to wear a simple pair of tight but comfortable trousers, a short-sleeved T-shirt and his inseparable tiger print sweatshirt on it. He looks at himself in the mirror for a brief moment, nods pleased and then turns around to face them.

 

“Are you going to lounge all day long, piggy?” he asks, rudely throwing his tracksuit at him as soon as he’s given Victor his. “Hurry up! We don’t have all day!”

 

Yuuri blushes slightly and stands up to get changed while the blond boy strides out of the room, leaving the door wide-open, heedless of the fact that both Victor and him are changing.

 

When they catch up with him in the hall fifteen minutes later, they find him busy at putting his skates in the training bag and checking that there’s everything he needs.

 

“Shit... I forgot to bring the plasters…” they hear him mumbling while moving aside a worn-out looking towel and a change of clothes.

 

“What are you doing Yurio?” Victor inquires, cocking the head on one side, as if he is looking at a little animal.

 

“What do you think I’m doing?” he snaps, raising his eyes for a split second. “I’m preparing my things, it’s rather obvious.”

 

“I can see that. But I fail to grasp _why_ you’re doing this.”

 

“Are you in the mood for stupid questions this morning?” he asks, knitting his eyebrows. “Hey Katsudon, can you lend me some plasters?”

 

Yuuri opens his mouth but he can’t find the words to answer, his gaze shifting between Victor and him.

 

“Yurio, you know you won’t be skating, don’t you?” Victor asks him, making him lift his head abruptly.

 

“Come again?”

 

“You can’t skate in your condit---”

 

Yuri springs to his feet and covers Victor’s mouth with his hands.

 

“Are you dumb? Why the fuck are you shouting?!” he hisses, looking around with wide-open eyes and cheeks ablaze, hoping nobody has heard that.

 

Victor raises his eyebrow and forces him to lower his hands.

 

“I wasn’t about to say anything bad, I think.” he answers calmly. “Are you ashamed?” he asks, bringing two fingers under Yuri’s chin to lift his face, but Yuri shoves him away, grunting.

 

“Stop playing and let’s get going!” he exclaims, shouldering his bag and exiting hastily to the fresh morning air.

 

Victor sighs. “Let’s go Yuuri” he murmurs, before slowly following him. He catches up with him when Yuri is already pushing his bag on the luggage rack of the bike.

 

“Yuri, I told you already, you are not coming.”

 

“I’m coming all right!”

 

“No, I repeat. You can’t skate anymore, now that you’re pregnant.”

 

“I hope you’re kidding me!” he shouts, furious.

 

“Of course not. Yuuri, are you ready?” he adds, turning to Yuuri, who starts and scrambles to join him. Victor removes the leopard print bag from the luggage rack and puts Yuuri’s, leaving him dismayed.

 

“Hey, what the fuck are you doing?!” he yells, but Victor isn’t fazed at all. “Don’t ignore me! I have no intention of quitting skating, you hear me?! Not now, not ever!”

 

“Of course you will, Yurio, at least during your pregnancy.”

 

“And why should I? I don’t want to quit!”

 

“Because you could fall like last time and hurt the baby,” he clarifies. “Don’t you think you’ve already risked enough?”

 

Yuri grinds his teeth, he’s not going to shut up so easily. Some subtle attempt to make him feel guilty won’t be enough for him to give up. Skating is his life.

 

“And what should I do during the whole day?”

 

“You could try to enjoy life for once, rest, relax…”

 

“Do you think I should spend the next five months lounging on the sofa, eating and gaining weight till I become a fat whale? No thanks! I leave that to the piggy over there!” he yells, waving his hand in Yuuri’s direction and making him start. “I don’t plan on just letting myself go and ending up like him! NEVER!”

 

“Yurio, stop being so mean to him.” Victor scolds him and this time his tone is strict and unwavering. “Yuuri has worked really hard to lose weight and gain permission to start skating again, you shouldn’t make fun of him.”

 

“Say what you want, but I won’t stay put for five months and do nothing! I don’t intend to say goodbye to my top physical condition and throw away years of sacrifices and hard work!” he furiously barks.

 

Victor sighs, exhausted, massaging his temples: facing such a discussion in the early morning is gaining the upper hand even on him. “Ok,” he exclaims, resigned. “What do you suggest then?”

 

“I’ll keep on skating. And training. And running!” he claims, folding his arms, a distrustful gaze cast on him. He can’t have won so easily, he knows that.

 

“Running is out of the question,” Victor answers, as expected.

 

“And why the hell?”

 

“Because I don’t think it’s healthy running 6 kilometres every morning in your condition.”

 

“Bullshit!” he replies, annoyed, but Victor ignores him completely and goes on: “You can keep on skating, but jumps and twirls are forbidden, no exceptions,” he grants.

 

“But―”

 

“Take it or leave it.”

 

Yuri glowers at him and nods flatly.

 

“As for the training, we’ll search for what is good for pregnancy and what is not.”

 

Yuri grits his teeth, staring at him with narrowed eyes.

 

“Fine!” he snaps, before realising an essential detail. “How the hell am I supposed to arrive at the Ice Castle if I can’t run?” he asks, and it seems that not even Victor has thought about it.

 

“Hmmm... You’ll come with me. We can put the bag in the basket and Yuuri can carry his own.”

 

“What?! Should I let you carry me like a brat?!” he shouts, blushing.

 

“Do you want to come or what?” Victor snaps, exasperated

 

“Of course I do!”

 

“Then stop complaining and hop on!” he answers. Yuri lets out a bothered growl, grabs Yuuri’s bag and throws it at him rudely before sitting on the luggage rack.

 

“Good, I guess we’re ready!” Victor cries, and before getting on the bike, he takes a deep breath and puts on one of his usual smiles, like the eternal optimist he is.

 

Yuri wraps his arms around Victor’s hips and realises that, all things considered, that solution might not be that bad. It’s a good excuse for staying close to him, basking in his heady scent while at the same time rubbing it in Yuuri’s face, who is forced to struggle and keep up with their pace.

 

When they finally arrive, Yuuri seems already exhausted, but he doesn’t complain and wears his skates without saying a word. He then turns towards Yuri.

 

“Here.” he hands him a small box of plasters, smiling, and Yuri stares at him for so long his smile falters a bit. “You said you needed them, didn’t you?” he asks, almost hesitating. Yuri grabs them harshly.

 

“Right.” he answers and then, averting his eyes, he adds: “Thanks.”

 

Yuuri’s smile widens, making him regret ever saying that word.

 

“You’re welcome.” he replies, before standing up and joining Victor, who is already warming up.

 

“Stupid Katsudon, why on earth does he always have to smile…” he mumbles, pulling off his socks to apply plasters in those areas in which he knows he’ll get blisters. He wears his skates, tying the strings angrily, as if they had done something bad to him, and thinking about the annoyingly kind way Yuuri keeps treating him.

In the end, when he reaches the barrier, he stops for a second. He looks at the ice, and for the first time he feels a tinge of fear. Victor’s words have hit the mark and now he can’t get them out of his head. The last thing he wants is to hurt his baby and the last time he wore his skates and went to take the rink, he left in an ambulance. He’s about to give up, when the familiar sound of blades scratching the icy surface brings him back to reality. Yuuri has just finished warming up and is trying some jumps under Victor’s watchful gaze.

He clenches his teeth. He won’t be left behind.

He resolutely enters the rink. But in just a few minutes he realises that, without jumps and twirls, there’s not much to do.

 

“What the hell am I supposed to do if I can’t train my jumps?!” he barks at the top of his lungs, just as Yuuri is about to attempt a triple flip and fails to do so, ending up on the icy floor. He feels a pinch of satisfaction.

Victor barely looks at him before turning towards Yuri. After all, it’s not unusual to see Yuuri fall.

 

“Maybe you could join the junior group,” Victor suggests him, beaming, as he sees the children jostling and whining while coming in for Yuuko’s Saturday morning lesson. “I am sure you’d fit right in, you have the same temper,” he makes fun of him, probably as punishment for distracting Yuuri a while ago.

 

Yuri gasps, this is a plain and simple insult!

 

“FUCK YOU!” he yells, before turning around, irritated, and resuming his training.

 

***

 

When they go back that evening, Yuri is still obstinately sulking, even though Victor doesn’t seem to care at all as they enter the house, or as they have dinner, not even as they undress to go to the hot springs.

And it’s extremely hard to be in a huff with him while he’s washing his back with a soft, warm sponge cloth.

When Victor had offered to do that to honour the Japanese tradition, Yuri had resolutely opposed to it, declaring that he was perfectly able to wash himself, but nothing could be done to dissuade him.

Maybe it was just a way to redeem himself, or he was trying to bribe Yuri.

But now that Victor is rubbing his back with slow, gentle movements, he’s starting to understand why that tradition is so appreciated.

 

“Does this feel nice?” he asks, sliding the soapy cloth along his arms and then up to his shoulders.

 

“I could very well do it myself,” he replies stubbornly, but his voice is soft, blissful. He’s keeping his eyes shut to thoroughly enjoy those sensations, and he’s almost forgetting they’re not alone.

 

Victor chuckles lightly behind him, focussing his meticulous attention on his chest.

 

“The right answer would be: yes, thank you, it feels wonderful,” he corrects him, washing his neck and chest with dedication, and Yuri tilts his head back, leaning on him almost without realising it.

 

Victor smiles, glad to finally see him relax. He get closer to support him better, and for a second he feels as though he’s being stared at. He glances upwards to Yuuri, sitting a few inches from them, who looks like he’s trying to rub his skin off, judging from how vigorously he’s scrubbing himself in the attempt to avoid to look at them.

Victor smirks, amused, and stretches out a leg to touch his foot. Yuuri gives a jump and almost falls off the stool he’s sitting on. He turns around, surprised, and Victor catches his eye, giving him a smile that almost seems like a sweet invitation. Almost as if he wants to let him know that there’s nothing wrong if his eyes linger on them.

Yuuri swallows hard, the memory of the previous night still vivid in his mind. His gaze is already travelling down Yuri’s body, languidly leaning on his lover, while almost purring from the pleasure of getting all those attentions.

And when his body inevitably starts to respond, he blushes violently, and feels so guilty that the boy has triggered such a reaction in him that he’d like the ground to swallow him up.

 

Victor chuckles, entertained, making him feel even more embarrassed and then turns his full attentions back to Yuri.

He drops the cloth and places his hands on his belly, bringing him abruptly back from his semi-trance state. Yuri opens his eyes wide and tries to draw back, but Victor holds him in place.

 

“No… don’t go away,” he murmurs, gently caressing his belly. “You can start to feel it, can you?” he asks, following the slight swell of his abdomen.

 

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t know what to say, and Yuuri being right in front of them makes him feel oddly uncomfortable.

 

“I can’t wait to see it grow. I hope it will get huge and round, a big tummy like this.” He makes a gesture to convey the image.

 

“I don’t. At all,” he replies, even though deep inside he’s not quite sure about that. A warm, unknown feeling he can’t name yet washes over him at the idea of seeing his belly grow day by day.

 

“Why not?” Victor inquires, bringing him back to reality.

 

“Because I don’t want to get a crap load of hideous stretch marks.” He blurts out the first thing that crosses his mind.

 

“Oh, there are rather effective creams for those,” Yuuri cuts in, making them both turn round.

 

“What do you know, piggy?” he snaps, annoyed, yet still too dazed to really sound mean.

 

Yuuri blushes and looks away. “Well, I… have always gained weight easily… and… well, when you keep putting on and losing weight, you can’t really avoid getting them…” He slightly shrugs. “Stretch marks have always been a problem for me,” he says in a quiet voice, adjusting a bit the towels around his waist to hide the thin, white scars on his hips, and Yuri, for the first time, feels guilty about his behaviour towards him.

 

“Sorry,” he murmurs, looking away, surprising both Yuuri and Victor.

 

“Never mind…” Yuuri says with a smile, feeling oddly light, as though someone has lifted a weight off his chest. “Anyway you don’t have to worry about it, if you’ll use the cream every day you won’t get them, you’ll see,” he adds, feeling that maybe, they’re finally building a bridge between themselves.

 

Yuri nods sharply and gets up swiftly to go and soak in the hot spring, suddenly awkward, cutting the conversation short.

Victor watches him go away without a word, surprised and glad that things have taken such an unexpectedly good turn. Maybe there’s a real chance for them. A chance to be happy together.

 

 

***

 

As they go back in the bedroom, still flushed and lightheaded from the long bath in the hot springs, Yuri would gladly slip under the blankets and rest until the following day, but Victor clearly has other plans.

 

“Alright! We have a research to do!” he cries, picking up the laptop from the desk before settling himself on the bed. He places it on his legs and opens it, then pats the mattress beside him. He’s intentionally propped himself against the wall, so the other two will have to sit side by side to see the screen. A sly trick, but he hopes it will help them take a small step towards each other.

Yuri shoots a glance at his namesake before throwing himself on the mattress, snuggling against Victor, giving him no time to react.

 

Yuuri, on the other hand, hesitates before sitting down. The bed is so tiny that it’s hard not to touch him, but he does his best to stay as far away as possible and leave him his space. The last thing he wants is undergo Yuri’s retaliation and get insulted, or even worse, beaten up.

 

“Let’s see… exercise during pregnancy,” Victor says out loud, looking happier and more excited than he should actually be for a mere internet research. He quickly types the words and hits enter. The browser loads a dozen different links with English titles.

“Hmm… this may be interesting,” he says, clicking on a link saying _antenatal light yoga_.

“No! Absolutely not! It’s not what we’re looking for!” Yuri yells, quickly pressing the back button.

 

“But it seemed interesting! They say yoga helps a lot, Yurio.”

 

“I don’t care! I want to do real exercise! Not that hippy bullshit!”

 

“Fine, fine. What about this one then?” Victor asks, moving the cursor on another link saying _breathing and relaxation, practical exercises_.

 

“Are you fucking with me?”

 

Victor raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. In his eyes, Yuri can almost read the answer: _“not yet.”_ He blushes and looks away.

 

“Don’t be difficult!” Viktor huffs in mock exasperation. Then he silently scrolls the page for some seconds, his eyebrows slightly furrowing, while he looks for something satisfactory.

 

“Oh! This is perfect!” he cries suddenly, pointing at a link that says _pregnancy fitness: exercises to tone up glutes._

“Victor!” This time it’s Yuuri’s voice scolding him. He leans towards him and takes the laptop from his hands. It’s a swift movement, Yuri hardly feels him press against his side, yet it’s enough to make him blush.

But luckily nobody notices, and he feels stupid for reacting in that ridiculous way.

 

Yuuri quickly types _pregnancy fitness yes or no?_ and waits for the browser to load the page.

He scrolls down the results, which seem more promising than the previous ones, and stops at the third link.

 

“There.” He lands on a softly-coloured page, with pictures of pregnant women wearing workout clothes. “It says you can do exercises like stretching and weights, only light load though.” He reads silently for a few seconds. “Oh, sit-ups are fine as well, horizontal position of course, not like you do now. They’re useful to strengthen the muscles before delivery.”

 

Yuri smiles, appeased, it’s not exactly what he hoped for, still it’s better than nothing.

 

“You should avoid running, even though it recommends brisk walking. Exercises requiring balance are not good either.”

 

“See? I was right, no running for you,” Victor teases him, leaning towards him to poke his cheek. Yuri slaps his hand away and shoots him a death glare.

 

“But I can do my usual exercises! So you were wrong.”

 

“I’d say it’s a 50/50,” Yuuri cuts in to pour oil on troubled waters. “It says breathing exercises are rather important to strengthen muscles and the diaphragm. I think it’s worth exploring further. We also could look up some antenatal classes, maybe…”

 

“What?! No way!” Yuri snatches the laptop from his hands and closes it before he can even try. “I’m not going to do anything like that! I don’t want to end up in a room full of pregnant women with someone telling me to breathe in a silly way.”

 

“But we could learn a lot of things—”

 

“We? Who invited you, anyway?” he retorts sharply.

 

“I… No, nobody… Sorry… I didn’t mean—” he stutters, looking away, almost hurt by his words.

 

“Yuuri is right anyway, a course might prove useful and help you during labour.”

 

“Aah! Stop!” he yells, covering his ears like a child. “I don’t want to think about that!”

 

“Oh Yurio, don’t be absurd!” Victor takes his hands away ignoring his protests. “You cannot afford _not_ to think about it! You need to be prepared for what’s going to happen. How do you think you can face it otherwise?”

 

“Victor’s right,” Yuuri chimes in cautiously. “You should start thinking about that already, there are several options available, you know? Home or hospital birth. Natural, Caesarean or water birth. With or without epidural. There are thousands of factors.”

 

Yuri looks at him, shocked. “How the hell do you know all this stuff, piggy? Did you get someone up the duff?” he asks suspiciously, just to add in a sarcastic voice: “Oh no, I’d forgotten! You’ve never been with any woman!”

 

“Yurio!” Victor chides him.

 

“But it’s true.”

 

“It may be, but this is no way to speak. And in any case, he’s had his own experiences as well, even though not with women.”

 

Yuri gapes at him as he swells with anger and jealousy. How can he hurl it in his face that nonchalantly?

 

“Alright! I’ve had enough for tonight. I want to sleep.”

 

He turns towards Yuuri and, without waiting for him to move, kicks him out of the bed.

 

“Out of the way, piggy!”

 

“Yurio!” Victor scolds him for the umpteenth time, and then sighs in exasperation. “Are you hurt?” he asks, leaning out of the bed, but Yuuri shakes his head.

 

“No, I’m fine, don’t worry.” Victor bends over him and kisses him, before turning towards Yuri and taking the laptop away from him. “Off to bed, you,” he orders, smacking his butt as though he were a naughty child.

Yuri obeys unwillingly and curls up under the sheets, steaming with jealousy as the thought that in a few days Victor and Yuuri will leave together for the Japanese Championships poisons his mind and twists his guts in a knot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who left a review, they really mean a lot to me!   
> And also Maple&Shrike who keep doing a wonderful job translating this, and Shelley, who beta-reads it for me <3


	7. Chapter 7

After only a few days, Victor and Yuuri had left together for the Japanese Championship, leaving Yuri alone at Yu-Topia. His continual and persistent demands to go with them had carried no weight at all. According to Victor, it was much safer for him to stay there, given _his conditions_. That definition was really starting to get at his nerves. It was almost like he had some weird disease, or had suddenly become fragile glass. He hated being treated like that, as if he were weak and brittle.

Besides, the idea of them spending the next two days alone, in some hotel God-knows-where, doing who knows what, was driving him mad.

 

Yuri snorts heavily as he stares at the ceiling, lying on the bed. He needed to find something to do as soon as possible, or else he will go mad, he’s sure of it. But Victor has forbidden him from skating while he’s away, and this significantly narrows down his options. In fact, it leaves him almost none. In his life, he’s never had anything besides skating. Well, maybe just one thing. Victor. And now he’s got neither.

He grinds his teeth and looks around. _What the hell do people do all day?!_ he thinks frustrated, getting up.

Maybe he could try and go into the main hall to watch some TV. Yes, it sounds like an acceptable idea. He heads there shuffling, and sits down cross-legged onto the tatami, in front of the screen.

The lack of a comfortable sofa is a first issue already. The lack of Victor wrapping his arms around him is even worse. The fact that every channel is in Japanese is the last straw.

He gives in and leaves the room, falling back on a long stroll that has him wander aimlessly through streets of Hasetsu. Staying away from the Ice Castle seems almost impossible, but somehow he manages to reach the marketplace, and spends the following couple of hours drooling over the shop windows.

When it’s finally evening, his legs are aching and so is his back, and his wallet is at least ten thousand yen lighter, and he is so tired that he falls asleep in a matter of seconds, without even realising it.

 

The morning after, when he wakes up, depression washes over him at the thought of spending another day like that, doing absolutely nothing useful.

It’s Hiroko who unexpectedly rescues him from boredom, when she sees him moping around the onsen.

 

“Yurio-kun, could you please help me clean the small hall?” she asks in her sweet, motherly voice. “Mari had to go out and run some errands, and I am alone. Those men who came yesterday for the party have left an utter chaos,” she sighs disheartened, and Yuri can’t but yield.

 

So he finds himself in the back of the inn with the woman, busy washing the tables and cleaning the mess the previous night’s customers have made of the room.

The activity keeps his mind busy as well, preventing him from worrying over things he cannot do anything about anyway.

It takes him all morning to clean the whole room. When he’s done, he feels tired and dirty, but satisfied.

 

“You’ve done a thorough job. Thank you. I’ll prepare you something special for lunch, to reward you for your help,” she adds, lightly tapping his hand affectionately, a large smile on her round, jolly face.

 

“No need to, don’t worry,” Yuri says, more gently than he’d like. He’s never had a mother figure in his life, Hiroko’s attentions feel odd and unusual, but also somewhat nice.

“Oh, come on! Tell me what you’d like,” she urges.

 

“I don’t know… Anything is fine, really,” he replies. At any rate, she surely wouldn’t be able to cook anything he might want. He suddenly longs for his grandfather’s pirozhki. The memory of the man sends a pang in his chest. He hasn’t heard from him since he’s left Russia.

He shakes his head and stoops down to pick up the large black bin bag waiting at the threshold, trying to get rid of the sadness before his hormones made him burst into tears.

But Hiroko hurries over to him just as he’s about to lift it, and stops him.

 

“Oh no, let me take it,” she offers quickly.

 

“I can carry it. No problem.”

 

“It would be better if you didn’t lift weights in your state, dear,” she says smiling kindly, and the bag escapes his hands, as blood freezes in his veins. He stares at her, gaping.

 

“What’s the matter, Yurio-kun? Did I say something wrong?” she worriedly asks him when he backs to the door. He rushes out into the corridor. He hears her call his name, but doesn’t stop.

How does she know? How did she figure it out?

He runs down the street, blindly, not even knowing where to go.

Is it that obvious? His belly is not even showing yet!

He takes a random turn, bumps into a passer-by, who rails against him. He doesn’t stop to apologise. He just keeps running.

Victor must have told her. But why? Why did he do that?

 

He turns into a familiar street without realising it. He crosses a bridge. The seagull cries remind him of St Petersburg.

He only stops when he reaches the Ice Castle. Blood is throbbing in his ears, his breath burns in his throat. He doesn’t even know why he’s gone there, he doesn’t even have his skates. He realises it’s a little past lunchtime. The front door is closed, but he knows the side entrance Yuuri always uses.

He sneaks in, and heaves a deep sigh of relief.

It doesn’t matter where he is, whether in Russia, Japan, or halfway across the world, being on the ice always feels like being back home to him. The familiar sound of the blades on the rink, the biting cold, his exhaled breath condensing into little clouds: all of it helps him calm down and relax. It’s like a safe haven to take shelter in during a storm.

He walks towards the rink at a slow pace and then halts, as he remembers he doesn’t have his skates with him, they’re at Yu-Topia, well-hidden somewhere out of his reach. Surely, Victor didn’t trust him enough to leave them close at hand.

 

“That bloody bastard,” he grumbles, stamping his foot, frustration washing over him again.

He frantically looks around, and his gaze slides over the racks behind the counter at the entrance. He feels nauseous at the mere thought of slipping his feet into skates that countless people have worn before him, but the need to feel the ice beneath the blades is so strong that it overcomes his disgust. He bites the bullet and gathers his courage.

He hops behind the counter, chooses a pair of skates his size, and resolutely puts them on. They are heavy, rigid and uncomfortable. They are too big at the toes, and too tight at the ankle.

The quick fasteners prevent him from adjusting the tension as he would with laces. He already knows he’ll get blisters.

He pines for his wonderful, super comfortable, custom-made skates.

Skating with those is going to be like trying to paint the Sistine Chapel with a paint roller.

He gets up and enters the rink without hesitation. He does one lap to get used to the unfamiliar skates. He shifts his weight to the right, then to the left, to find the right balance, tries out the blades and the serrated edges: they’re thick and rough and don’t brake as they should.

He sighs, and tries to relax and clear his head.

As most of the times he’s been there with Victor and Yuuri, there’s nobody else in the rink. That place is far quieter than the one he used to train in back in Russia, where there was never a moment’s peace. It feels nice. There, he doesn’t need to isolate himself from outside noises. He doesn’t need to focus to ignore Yakov’s yelling, or Mila’s chattering, or Georgi’s whining.  
He skates to the centre of the rink, shuts his eyes, and brings back to mind Agape’s melody. He starts performing the choreography like it’s second nature. The skates make him awkward, but he does his best to be graceful as he approaches the first jump. Victor has forbidden him from doing that, but he’s not there now. He’s in some hotel room with that bloody katsudon, doing who knows what. Yuri purses his lips and pushes off the ice. He doesn’t land cleanly, but manages not to fall. He puts a hand down and recovers quickly. The skates are weighing him down more than he thought. They’re not in the least suited for what he’s doing.

He smoothly glides into the step sequence, breathless. He’s already tired and he’s not even halfway through his routine yet. He does another lap and gets ready for the second jump. He spikes the blade into the ice. He jumps. Even before landing, he knows there isn’t enough rotation. He knows he’s going to fall and get hurt. A lot. He lands rather badly, hitting the ice with his left hip and shoulder. He rolls over his belly and slides on the ice for a few metres.

When he tries to get up, pain radiates all over his pelvis and his back. He grits his teeth, as tears flood his eyes.

 

“Fuck,” he hisses.

 

He struggles to sit up, with his shoulder throbbing painfully.

The gravity of the situation suddenly hits him with the impact of an avalanche. He jerks his shirt up, as though he’d be able to see the harm he’s done to that tiny life inside of him, but there’s no way he can know whether the baby is fine or not. The thought of hurting it and the sense of guilt are crushing him, leaving him breathless.

He’s been selfish. He’s put that life at risk on a whim. He curses himself for his foolishness, while tears stream down his cheeks.

 

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry!” he whispers, wrapping his arms around his belly.

 

Panic sets a lump in his throat, he doesn’t know what to do. Maybe he should go to the hospital, but he has no idea where it is. And there’s no way he can find out, since he can neither read nor speak Japanese. And even if he was able to get there, how would he explain the situation?

He drags himself out of the rink. Now he regrets being alone, with nobody there to help him.

He hastily gets changed, drops the skates beside the benches and leaves the Ice Castle, not in the least concerned that someone may discover what he’s done.

The walk back to Yu-Topia is long and painful, and along the way, he thinks through everything the gynaecologist he’d talked to in Russia told him. He tries to remember all the things she explained to him about symptoms and warning signs.

Blood. Yes, that’s one of the things she advised him to pay attention to. A sudden loss of blood may indicate a miscarriage.

He hurriedly quickens his pace. All he wants now is to just get there as soon as possible and check. When he finally arrives to the onsen, he rushes to the bathroom and pulls down both his trousers and boxers. The relief he feels as he sees there’s no trace of blood almost makes him dizzy. He collapses against the wall, his eyes shut and his heart fluttering in his chest.

When he gets up, his gaze falls on the bruise blossoming along his hip. He carefully pulls down the collar of his shirt. The shoulder is purplish as well.

He bites his lip. Now _that_ is a problem.

Victor will be back in a matter of hours, and there’s no way he can conceal those huge bruises.

Victor is so going to kill him.

 

 

***

 

When the two finally come back in the late evening, they are both beaming for the achieved victory and Yuuri shows off his brand-new medal. Yuri watches the whole family congratulating him, trying to be as normal and nonchalant as possible. After taking a bath, he has kept the yukata on, so that he doesn’t have to change for the night and risk showing his bruises, he hopes with all his heart that it will be enough for not getting caught.

Luckily enough, celebrations don’t last for too long, especially considering the late hour, and everybody goes to bed in no time.

 

Yuuri carries the luggage into the bedroom, followed by Victor, who huffs and complains almost as if it was him who made the effort during the competition.

Upon entering the bedroom, he sighs, starting to undress for the night.

 

“We qualified!” he cries out, while throwing his clothes at the foot of the bed to wear the yukata. “This is grand!

 

“We? I don’t reckon you participating as well,” Yuri taunts him, trying to keep his usual annoyed and cheeky tone.

 

“Well, I’m his coach, so it feels like my victory as well.”

 

“If you really want to win, then hurry up and come back to the rink rather than wasting time with him!” Yuri scolds him with a steely gaze, his arms crossed.

 

Yuuri smiles, putting down his new medal on the shelf together with the others, and trying not to show how much that comment hurt him.

 

“Oh stop it. You’re just jealous,” Victor rebukes him gently, far too happy to be really mad at him. “Come here, I missed you,” he then murmurs, stretching towards him to wrap him into a hug.

 

Yuri would like to be happy about that, an act which would normally fill him with joy and satisfaction, but that touch, even if light, draws a pained moaning out of his lips, and Victor, worried, moves slightly back to look into his eyes.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, moving his hands on Yuri’s shoulders to keep him at arm’s length but Yuri immediately pulls back and Victor’s eyes narrow at his attitude.

 

“What did you do?” he asks, serious all of a sudden.

 

“Nothing!” he answers quickly, trying to fall back, panic showing in his eyes. But Victor doesn’t let him go.

 

“Yurio.”

 

“It’s nothing!” he insists but Victor gets dangerously close “it’s just a bruise, I was helping Hiroko and—”

 

Victor grabs the yukata by the collar.

 

“No! Let me go! I told you it’s nothing!” he shouts, pulling backwards.

 

“Victor—” Yuuri gets closer, he’s about to stop him, but it’s too late. Victor lowers decisively the light fabric, revealing his swollen shoulder. The now purple bruise, with greenish and yellowish shades, looks far worse that how it actually is. Silence falls on them. Even Yuuri holds his breath, his eyes shifting between the shoulder and Victor.

Victor grabs the obi and unties it with one firm movement, a grim expression on his face.

 

“NO! Cut it out!” Yuri shouts. But he’s not able to stop him. And anyway, he knows that at this point it’s already too late.

Victor tugs the yukata, forcing him to take off the sleeve. The fabric slips off his shoulders, and he scrambles to catch it before it reaches the floor in order to cover himself as best as he can. The pressure of the elastic of the boxers was unbearable, that’s why he’s not wearing them, and so he’s left completely naked and exposed in front of them. The bruise on his hip stands out like a pitch stain on snow, spreading out from the thigh to the pelvis.

 

“I had forbidden you to skate.” Victor’s tone is harsh and cold as steel and makes him shiver.

 

“I didn’t—”

 

“Don’t lie to me!” he roars, causing both of them to start. Yuri feels his eyes filling up with tears.

 

“You could have hurt yourself!” he goes on. “You could have lost the baby! Is that what you want? Is skating more important than our baby to you?!” he shouts in anger.

 

Tears roll down his cheeks as he tries to stifle a sob. Victor is not even touching him, yet his words hurt like he is being beaten. Astonished, Yuuri watches the scene. He has never seen Victor angry before, and he has to admit he’s scaring him.

 

“Answer me!”

 

“No! No, it’s not!” he sobs, distraught. He feels horribly ashamed for what he has done, and wishes he could just go back and change things.

 

“Then why the hell did you do that?”

 

Yuri sobs, unable to find the courage to speak.

 

“Answer me Yuri.” his merciless voice makes him sob. The sound of his name now cuts like a knife. As if it were a punishment. He would give anything to hear him say that round and soft “o” now.

 

“Because I was jealous! I was jealous of him, okay?!” he snaps, his voice heavy with tears. “You left me here to cheat on me with him in who knows what hotel! You left me alone, again! And you forbid me to skate! What should have I done? I’ve never had anything besides skating! Nothing! And then his mother came to me saying I shouldn’t lift weights because I’m pregnant! How did she figure it out? I panicked and ran away! I didn’t know what to do! I didn’t know where to go! I didn’t mean to! I… didn’t want to,” he sobs, hiding his face behind his hands, repeating those words like a mantra. The yukata has slipped off, leaving him naked and helpless under their glance. But it doesn’t matter. At this point, he doesn’t care anymore.

 

Victor sighs heavily.

 

“It’s ok, don’t cry,” he comes closer and hugs him gently. “I shouldn’t have shouted, forgive me.”

 

He caresses his hair and presses his cheek against his head, holding him passionately.

 

“Will I lose the baby?” he whispers with a broken voice.

 

“I don’t know,” Victor sighs sadly. “We’ll have to book an ultrasound scan and hope that everything is all right.”

 

Yuri buries his face against Victor’s chest, new tears pouring down. Behind him, Yuuri feels his heart clenching. He stoops to pick up the yukata and places it on Yuri’s shoulders, trying not to hurt him.

He caresses his back gently, wishing he could do more to make him feel better, to comfort him.

 

“I’ll take care of it tomorrow morning,” he offers. Victor thanks him with a glance.

 

“Lie down now,” Victor orders then with a softer tone, leading him to the bed. “Yuuri, please, do you have some remedy for bruises?”

 

“Yes, I do. I’ve got an arnica ointment,” he answers, rushing to rummage in a box of bandages, plasters and different ointments, as Yuri lies down, curling himself on the bed, his tear-stained cheeks hidden in the pillow.

 

“There,” Yuuri hands the cream out to Victor, who sits next to Yuri. As he opens the tube and squeezes a generous amount of cream on the palm of his hand, Yuri recognises the pungent smell. Victor then smears it gently on his hip. The cream is cold and startles him, but Victor’s touch is delicate and caring. When he goes for the shoulder, Yuri feels warm fingers carefully placing a clean gauze on his hip.

Knowing that Yuuri is seeing him in that state, naked and in tears, completely exposed and vulnerable, makes him choke out of embarrassment.

But Yuuri smiles at him sympathetically, as he covers the shoulder as well, and briefly strokes his hair.

 

“I’m positive everything is going to be all right, you’ll see,” he murmurs as Victor stands up to get a blanket to wrap him in. He then lies at his side and cradles him in his arms.

 

“Never do it again,” he warns him, burying his face in Yuri’s hair, while he nods, desperately clinging to the bed sheets.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank the translators Maple&Shrike for all their hard work in translating this story <3 and Shelley for beta readying it for me <3 
> 
> I hope you liked it. And I have a feeling that everyone will hate Victor even more now, am I wrong?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is. I want to apologize for how long it took, but things happened and well, I managed to put it on only now, sorry T^T I hope you will like it!

“Tell me again why he had to tag along?” Yuri asks, annoyed, from the back seat of the car that Mr Katsuki has lent them to go to the hospital. His arms are crossed over his chest, his feet pushing against the passenger seat.

“Because Yuuri worries about you as much as I do,” is Victor’s simple reply, as he takes a turn into the overcrowded parking area. “Plus, we need an interpreter.”

Yuri huffs and looks outside the window. Being angry at them helps him not to think about what awaits him and get into a panic. Even though he hasn’t talked about it, hasn’t even dared open his mouth about the matter, he’s terrified of being told that his fall has affected the baby. That he might have somehow harmed, or even killed, it. His stomach drops at the thought, and he feels like throwing up.

“Look, there’s a spot there,” Yuuri points, severing his trail of thought. Victor brakes, slips into the narrow space, and shuts off the engine. They get off the car and lock it, then Victor turns towards him.

“Do you have the papers?”

“Yeah. Though I don’t know why you had me bring them along, they’re going to be useless since they’re in Russian,” he points out sarcastically.

“You never know.”

“That we might find a Russian obstetrician in Japan? Fat chance!”

Victor sighs and pushes him forward. “Come on, let’s go.”

They walk together towards the main building. It’s about a quarter of the size of the one he was hospitalised in not long ago, yet it’s got the same creepy look all hospitals have.  
Big glass doors, a miserable-looking lobby and a maze of corridors impossible to tell apart.  
He cannot read any of the directions written in kanji that cover the walls, but Yuuri leads them without hesitation, as though he already knows the way.  
That would make Yuri suspicious, if he wasn’t busy enough trying not to get overwhelmed by panic.

They stop at the enquiry desk of what appears to be the obstetrics ward. Yuuri has a brief, incomprehensible exchange with the nurse, who nods and points him to the corridor on the right.

“We may go, the doctor is waiting for us,” he explains, slightly bowing to thank her before heading for the door of the first exam room.

There is a small desk in there, crowded with papers. Behind it, a woman in her forties wearing a stern look. She raises an eyebrow upon seeing three people, all of them males, but makes no comment.  
Then she darts a glance at Yuuri.  
She speaks to him in Japanese, and even with his worries gnawing at him, Yuri can distinctly grasp the word Katsuki in her unintelligible stream of words and notice embarrassment on Yuuri’s face as he answers some questions.  
But he’s not focussed enough to be able to process that info.  
The woman doesn’t waste any time. She gets up and motions for him to get on the examination table, half hidden by a metallic privacy screen.

“She said you may settle yourself on it, if you’re ready,” Yuuri translates, and he nods, heading towards that table that looks like an honest-to-God torture device.  
As he’s getting undressed, he thinks absently about how odd it is that hospitals all look the same, no matter the country. White, sterile, and soaked in the scent of medicine and disease.

The doctor allows him a few minutes before joining him, followed by Victor and Yuuri.  
When she finds him naked from the waist down, his feet already on the dedicated rests and his legs wide apart, completely exposed, she has a moment’s hesitation.

“Oh my God!” Yuuri cries out, turning around with a jerk, his face red with embarrassment.

“What the fuck has got into you, bloody katsudon!” he yells at him, covering himself with his hands as best as he can, his face a shade of red so deep that he positively looks like a tomato.

“I didn’t expect you to… Why are you naked?!” he asks, upset, his back towards Yuri, unable to get that picture out of his mind.

“Because it’s fun!” he snaps, clenching his legs, awfully self-conscious. “For the ultrasound, idiot! What else?!” He’s itching to throw something at him so badly, but luckily there’s nothing at hand that he could use to hit Yuuri.

“But there was no need to! Who told you so?”

Yuri hesitates, taken aback.

“Last time they did it like this,” he answers, his voice faltering.

In the meantime, the doctor has sat next to Yuri and has turned the ultrasound machine on, muttering something to herself. Now she’s getting the probe ready, exactly as it happened back in Russia.

“See that? Stupid katsudon! This is how it’s done!” Yuri mocks him, oddly glad now, despite what awaits him. At least it means he’s not the one making a fool out of himself.

“The doctor said if you want to do it like this, then it’s fine! But she would have done an external ultrasound, Yurio!”

At those words, he feels like he might die of embarrassment.

“Tell her I want it external! Hey, hey! Tell her… Fuck!”

But at that point it’s too late. He feels the probe plunge into him without ceremony, while the doctor says something he doesn’t quite understand, but that makes Yuuri chuckle.

“Stop sniggering damn you!” he yells, but his protests are hushed by the feeling of that device moving deep within him in a careless manner.

He grits his teeth, trying to take a deep breath and calm down. But that woman doesn’t seem to be even trying to be gentle, doesn’t seem to care at all that she might hurt him. And pain mixes to apprehension, and fear to receive the news he’s dreading so much, making it impossible for him to relax, making everything even worse.  
He feels a hand grasp his own and frantically clings to it. This time he’s not alone, Victor is by his side and is looking at him intensely.

“Everything’s going to be alright.”

He nods. He wants to believe him. He desperately wants it.

Time seems to be going backwards, each second lasts a lifetime, while the woman silently examines the images on the screen. She writes down something on a sheet of paper, then busies herself with the ultrasound machine.  
Yuri holds his breath when she speaks again. He doesn’t understand what she’s saying, but whatever it is, it makes Yuuri spin around to face them.  
Yuri is about to yell at him to turn away, but his stare is fixed on the screen. His mouth is agape in a display of sheer awe, his eyes wide with wonder.  
Then a familiar sound fills the room. That racing heartbeat that Yuri has heard only one other time in his life.  
His heart melts with relief and happiness.

A huge grin spreads on Yuuri’s lips as he shifts his gaze to him. “The baby is fine!”

Four simple words capable of wiping away all his fears and worries, and filling his eyes with tears. He doesn’t even care anymore that he’s completely naked, with a probe up his arse, and that Yuuri is seeing him in that state.  
All he can think about is that the baby is fine, and how immensely happy this makes him.

Victor lovingly kisses his hair, his eyes moist.

The doctor turns the screen towards them so they can see the image for a few seconds.  
Yuuri joins them, and they stay like that, spellbound, watching that grey and black screen for what feels like an eternity.

And just like the first time, when the doctor removes the device and the screen goes black, it’s always too soon, and he would like to yell at her “Wait a little longer! Just a second!”, but it’s not possible.

The woman hands him some tissues, and embarrassment sweeps over him again.  
He covers himself as best as he can, and turns around to glare at Yuuri, but something about him throws him off balance. Yuuri is looking at the black screen with glistening eyes, a deep, almost painful sadness in them.  
Victor shifts at his side, tells something to the doctor, and Yuuri lowers his gaze on him. Their eyes meet, and for a instant it seems to Yuri that he’s staring into his soul. And down there, somewhere, a hidden secret, huge and aching, fighting to come to the surface. He draws back gasping, feeling as though he’s just seen something he should have never caught sight of.

“Stop staring at me, will you?!” he snaps, trying to get rid of that feeling far too intimate, to break that connection between them that he felt for a split second. Yuuri starts and blushes visibly, averting his eyes.

“Sorry! I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to…” he stutters, lowering his head out of embarrassment. “I’ll wait for you in there,” he says, while retreating under Victor’s baffled gaze, leaving them alone.

Yuri wipes himself clean, feeling Victor’s burning eyes on him. Knowing he’s staring at him doesn’t make him as awkward as it should, yet it takes his mind off Yuuri.  
He throws the tissues in the nearby bin and stands up.  
Victor helps him get dressed without ever taking his eyes off him, and when he’s done he fiercely hugs him.

“I’m so happy,” he whispers, his face buried in Yuri’s neck.

“Me too,” Yuri murmurs against his chest, feeling his stomach flutter pleasantly. He would have never imagined to experience something like that and be glad about it.

“I wish we were alone so I could show you how happy I am,” Victor whispers directly in his ear, pressing lightly against him.

Those words almost make him choke. His groin stirs immediately, as he gasps for air. He lifts his gaze to meet Victor’s, and he kisses him on the lips. A kiss chaste and passionate at the same time, laden with promises. But when he tries to deepen it, Victor pulls back and turns round to join the doctor, leaving him breathless and aroused.  
“Curse you,” he thinks, before taking a deep, quivering breath and following him, hoping that his painful erection is not too noticeable through his tight trousers.

The doctor hands over to him some papers in Japanese that he obviously won’t be able to read, and speaks to Yuuri so he can translate for them.

“She says the baby is fine, it hasn’t suffered any trauma, but you need to be more careful.” He stops for a moment to listen, then nods. “She advises that you rest until the bruises are healed, and then avoid making efforts and dangerous activities.”

Yuri nods, he’s not going to make the same mistake twice.

“If possible, I’ve got some question,” Victor intervenes. The woman gestures him to go on.

“What about sex?” he asks nonchalantly, almost causing Yuuri to choke on his own saliva. The smile he had before is now replaced by an astonished expression.

“Sex?” The doctor repeats the word in English, having clearly guessed the sense of the question.

“Yes, sex. Can he have sex?” Victor asks, pointing at Yuri and trying to make the concept as clear as he can.

The woman nods and launches into a long and detailed explanation, but Yuuri is too upset even for noticing that she has started speaking again.

“Yuuri?” Victor brings him back to reality, making him start. He bows down to apologise for not listening and begs her to repeat, his cheeks flaming red.

“She says… he can do it. Usually in the first three months it is not recommended to have intercourse, but as for him, he’s on his fourteenth week, so there are no problems whatsoever,” he interprets awkwardly, then the woman speaks directly to Yuri.

“She is asking… oh Gosh… She’s asking about your libido…” he whispers astonished, covering his eyes with his hand. His heart is pounding wildly in his chest. 

“My what?”

“Your libido! How badly you want to do it, Yurio!” he snaps, embarrassed beyond expression.

“Oh… Ooh! I’m always up for it!” he answers, slouching on the chair with a knowing smile and starting to find the whole situation very amusing. Especially considering how awkward it is for Yuuri to be talking about that topic.

The doctor nods, and at that point she addresses Victor directly. “She says… that it’s important for the partner to show interest… and attraction… in this period of time, because it helps strengthening the couple and preventing possible postpartum depression,” he stammers, asking himself what kind of masochistic reason drove him to go with them that morning, instead of just staying at home in peace.

“Did you hear? We should do it as much as we can,” Yuri smirks, looking up at Victor. “You wouldn’t want me getting all depressed, would you?” 

“We wouldn’t want that,” he chuckles, and then addresses the doctor yet again. “Is there anything you do not recommend? Something we really shouldn’t do?”

Yuuri translates for him and the woman shakes her head.

“She says there are no actual contraindications. During… intercourse… Yurio should lay on his side, and… and you behind him. Or he could also stay on top. But never laying on his stomach,” he murmurs, feeling so embarrassed he would rather die than continue that conversation. Especially considering that his mind is filling up with quite inappropriate images of the two, about to put into practise those instructions. On the other hand, Victor nods completely absorbed, like a good scholar listening to an important lesson.

“Are there any restrictions on… quantity?” Yuuri translates and the woman frowns.

“Please, explain yourself better,” she asks.

“I mean, how many consecutive orgasms he can have.” Yuuri almost chokes on those words and looks at him, upset. Why would he ever ask such a thing? What the heck does it mean? He blushes excessively, but Victor urges him with a glance and he has no choice. He’s not able to look at the doctor in the eyes while pronouncing those words.

“She says there are no limitations, but it’s better not to exaggerate, and then something about uterine contractions, I didn’t get that. She seemed quite shocked herself, if you ask me!” he adds, red with embarrassment.

“I don’t see why she would be.”

“Because nobody asks such things!”

“Well, I want to make sure to do everything right, and not to do anything that could somehow harm Yuri or the baby,” he answers and Yuuri looks at him, surprised. Maybe he’s being childish, after all Victor is just trying to be a good partner and a good parent, and this is supposed to be an admirable behaviour.

“Can you please ask her if we can use sex toys?” Victor then adds, shattering in a jiffy all his attempts to justify him and look at the bright side.

“What?! NO!” he springs on his feet, badly upset. “Oh God, no! I won’t ask such a thing!”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s embarrassing!” he answers, surprised by how quietly Victor’s dealing with the situation. For his part, Yurio enjoys the the scene trying with all his might not to burst out laughing.

“Yuuri, please. I need to know.” Victor looks at him with pleading eyes and, as usual, he pitifully gives in. He really can’t say no to him.  
He sits down and bows his head, as if trying to summon the courage before asking the dreaded question. There’s a moment of silence, but not as long as Yuuri was expecting, and he groans while listening to the answer.

“I don’t want to translate this,” he whines.

“Yuuri, please.”

He closes his eyes and sighs, oh God give him the strength.  
Yuri has tears in his eyes because of all the effort put into not laughing his arse off in front of Yuuri. His reactions are hilarious. It was almost worth the fall, just to be able to enjoy that show.

“She said…” he hesitates. “No, I can’t say it!”

“Come on, it’s just us, there’s no reason to be so embarrassed,” Victor comforts him quietly.

“Of course there is!”

“Go on, what did she say?”

“That everything he feels at ease with is fine!” he snaps. “Everything is fine, ok? Except ropes. No ropes, no bondage! And you can’t put too many things inside of him, or things too big, and don’t make me go into detail because I have no intention of repeating what she has listed!” he yells and then slumps onto the chair, exhausted as if he had just climbed a mountain.

“Hmmm… Thought so. Especially regarding bondage.”

“Pity,” Yurio adds just for the fun of watching Yuuri turning to look at him, shocked.

“What about knotting* then? Victor asks, and Yuri feels butterflies in his stomach at the mere thought. On his side, Yuuri seems to be having the same reaction, and this bothers him to no end.

“She says it’s not a problem, but it’s up to Yurio to decide if he wants that or not,” he translates without looking at them.

“Oh yes, I do! You can bet your arse on it!” he shouts shamelessly. 

 

“Yurio, language.” Victor rebukes him gently.

“Sorry. Anyway, I want that!”

Victor reaches out to gently caress his hair, smiling for such positive feedback, and he then addresses the doctor with a warm smile.

“Well, thank you, it has been very useful, really.” Victor is about to stand up, but the doctor stops him. And Yuuri moans, he just wants this to be over. He wants to go home and crawl in a corner of his room and just die there.  
However, the question asked by the doctor makes him raise his head, serious all of a sudden.

“She’s asking if you’ve already marked him,” he translates and this time he keeps eye contact with Victor.

“No, I haven’t,” comes the immediate response, firm and decisive.

Yuuri sighs unconsciously, feeling oddly relieved, almost as if it meant that he still has a chance, that he can still hope to belong to Victor more than Yuri, even though he knows it will never be this way.  
Then the woman adds something that appears to be important.

“She said you shouldn’t do it while he’s pregnant, should Yuri have hormonal peaks that make him seem in oestrus, as it could be dangerous for the baby.”

Victor nods. “I wouldn’t have done it anyway.”

Yuri turns back to look at him, his jaded eyes wide open, amusement gone from his face.

“Not until you experience what it truly means to be an omega and have the chance to choose,” he adds, addressing him directly.

Yuuri, at his side, nods approvingly. Victor is always full of surprises. He has never met somebody like him before. Especially an alpha like him. Anybody else would have definitely taken advantage, and would have marked him in that moment when he is most vulnerable, without hesitation. 

The doctor finally dismisses them, together with a bundle of illegible papers and a couple of prescriptions for vitamins and nutritional supplements.  
As they leave the hospital, Yuuri feels mentally worn out. He has received more information than he wanted to, and above all, he has seen far more than what he would wish for.

On his way back home, the image of Yuri on that table, even if fleeting, keeps haunting his mind, regardless of his efforts to drive it away. And it takes all his self-control to prevent his body from reacting inappropriately at that memory.

 

 

 

 

 

Technical notes:

*Knotting: Technically speaking, knotting is an animal practise according to which the dominant alpha has a particular conformation of the penis (a bulge at the base that occurs shortly before ejaculation) with which entraps the subject from the inside, during intercourse, and holds it for a time ranging from ten to fifteen minutes, thus maximizing the chances of conception.

*Marked: Here we’re talking about the mark, which represents the bond between alpha and omega. The mark is usually a deep bite mark, inflicted upon the omega by an alpha, in a specific spot of the neck, just below the back of the head. When an omega is marked, they’re completely linked to the alpha for the rest of their life and won’t be able to mate with other alphas. Conversely an alpha can mark and therefore mate with several omegas, since their instinct makes them look for as many “mates” as possible (as for all animals that have a hierarchy based on a dominant male and a female harem).


	9. Chapter 9

“I daresay this check-up has been rather useful,” Victor remarks once they are back at Yu-Topia, as he is about to treat Yuri’s bruises.

“Oh, yeah. I can’t wait to put into practise what the doctor has advised us to do,” Yuri smirks, laying himself down lasciviously on the bed, half-naked, unconcerned about Yuuri being in the same room.

Victor shakes his head, smiling. “No doubt of it.”

He puts the cream down onto the bed, beside him, but his phone rings right at that moment, forcing him to get up.

“Dammit… I have to pick up,” he says looking at the screen, his jaw tight and an unreadable expression on his face, and “can you please see to it?” he asks turning to face Yuuri. He looks at Victor, speechless for a second, but then nods slowly.

Victor sends him a thankful look before disappearing beyond the door, leaving them alone.  
Yuuri stares at the door gaping for what seems like forever, and then turns towards Yuri, who is kneeling down next to him.

“Don’t you dare touch me!” Yuri yells firmly, but he is already squeezing the cream onto his palm.

“I’ll be quick.” 

“HEY!” Don’t even try it!” he snarls, trying to pull back.

“Yuri, a mere few hours ago I saw you buck naked, with your legs up in the air and a probe up your arse. And I had to ask a doctor if, how and how many times you can have sex with Victor. Do you really believe that at this point rubbing a little bit of cream on you would be a problem?” he asks exasperated, leaving him dumbfounded.

“Clearly not,” he mutters in reply, lying back down on the bed, frowning. He hates the maturity with which Yuuri keeps approaching him.

“They look very painful,” Yuuri murmurs, smearing the gel on the bruised skin, trying to be as delicate as possible and at the same time keep at bay any lewd thoughts he might have about Yuri. Which turns out to be all but easy after that morning’s events.

Yurio shrugs. “Not more than usual,” he mumbles. “I could put it myself. You know that, don’t you?”

“I do, but it’s really no bother for me.” He looks up and smiles to him in that open and guileless way of his that puzzles him every time.

“Why are you doing that?” he asks after a long moment’s silence, frowning.

“What? This? I told you, it’s not—”

“No, not this!” he cuts in. “You talk to me, smile at me, you’re kind to me… Why are you doing this? Why don’t you hate me?”

Yuuri lifts his gaze to meet his. “Why would I hate you?”

“What do you mean, ‘why’? Because I’ve always treated you like shit, I insult you and hurt you, and… God, I’m going to have a baby with the man you love! How can you not hate me for this?!” he asks, while sitting and covering himself with the yukata, even though Yuuri is not done with his treatment. He wants to deal with this issue. Now. He must. He cannot ignore it any longer. He needs answers.

“I don’t know,” Yuuri replies, sitting on his heels. “But I cannot hate you only because Victor loves you, it would be wrong.”

Yuri worries at his lip. “No, it wouldn’t. I do hate you for that,” he whispers, even though he is not that sure now. “And anyway, he doesn’t love me. He only wants to have a little fun with me,” he confesses, drawing his knees to his chest to rest his chin on them, pouting. And Yuuri can’t help but feel sorry for him.

“This is not true.” He gets up and joins him on the bed. “I can see it, you know… the way he looks at you, and reaches for you. It’s obvious. Even if he’s never told you.” 

Yuri looks up, his eyes glistening.

“Liar.”

“It’s the truth. As hard as it is for me to admit it, a piece of his heart belongs to you.”

Yuri looks him up and down, his brow furrowed in a sceptical expression.

“And doesn’t it bother you?”

“Well, at the beginning it surely did. I can’t deny it. When you came here the first time, and I saw the way he looked at you, when you wouldn’t notice, I couldn’t help being jealous. I thought ‘I want him to look at me the same way’,” he murmurs, staring into distance, as though he is reliving those moments. “That’s what drove me to give it everything I had during “Onsen on Ice”, you know?” He smiles at the memory, feeling rather awkward confessing that.

“Then, when you came back again, I knew immediately that something had changed. And when you said you were pregnant, I thought ‘there, it’s over. I lost’. There was so much love for both you and the baby in Victor’s eyes, I was sure I had lost any chances I had. But clearly I was wrong. Yes, I may not be the only one for him, and I may never be, but it’s fine as long as I can be part of his life.”

“You mean you’d be willing to share him with someone else?” Yuri asks, surprise evident on his face.

“Yes, if it means I can stay beside him,” he nods, and his eyes are sincere. “And if I should share him with Yurio, it wouldn’t be that bad,” he smiles.

“Don’t say embarrassing things, piggy!” he yells, blushing hard, and Yuuri chuckles, lifting his hands in surrender.

“Sorry, sorry!”

Silence falls between them, and Yuri observes him, examining his face. 

“I don’t get you. You’re seriously weird.”

Yuuri chuckles again. “I probably am,” he agrees. “But I want him to be happy. And if you make him happy, then it’s fine by me. I’d do anything for him.”

“Why?” Yuri asks, tilting his head to one side. “You barely know him, you know next to nothing about him. Why are you so obsessed?”

Yuuri wavers over the question. He shifts his gaze to the sheets under them, fiddling nervously with the creases.

“Maybe I don’t know him as well as you do, you’re right, but he was everything to me in a time when I had nothing. He was my salvation,” he murmurs hesitantly, and Yuri instantly regrets ever asking that question. He has a feeling that he has just opened Pandora’s box. And he does not know whether he is ready to see what is in it.

“As a child I was always alone, I had no friends, nobody who wanted to play with me. They called me piggy too, you know?” It is hard to say those words, but now that he has got started, there is no turning back. The words come flooding out of his mouth like a river, unrestrained. “I used to think it was because I was already chubby, even then, but I was wrong. They didn’t make fun of me, and avoid me, because of my weight. The truth is, they were afraid of getting infected.” He pauses for a second, it is hard to keep going. “They feared if they got too close, if they touched me, they would become like me… depraved, filthy omegas like me.”

The last words are uttered in a mere whisper, and Yuri holds his breath, shocked. His heart speeds up in his chest.

“You… are an omega?” he manages to ask in a barely audible voice, overwhelmed by that sudden revelation.

Yuuri nods ruefully, his head bent down, unable to look at him in the eye, afraid to see the loathing and repulsion he always has in the people around him.

“I… if I had known…” He bites his lip, not knowing how to apologise. For the first time he does feel guilty about the way he has been treating him the whole time, having no idea of how much his words could hurt him. What for him had been just a nickname to jeer at Yuuri had probably wounded him so deeply that he could have never imagined it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and he knows it is not enough, but he cannot come up with anything better to say. Nothing that could ever wash away his guilt.

“Don’t worry, you couldn’t have known it.” Yuuri lifts his head, one of his fake smiles plastered on his face, and he would like to tell him to stop pretending everything is all right, to get mad at him, to yell at him for the things he has told him, but Yuuri speaks again before he can even open his mouth.

“Here in Japan you get tested when you’re still very little, so everyone knows what you are before you do. You cannot possibly know that, since you were raised as a beta, but when you’re born an omega, nobody expects anything from you. Nobody gives you a chance. Why waste resources on someone that unreliable? Someone who will never achieve anything in their life? I grew up with these words hurled at me all of the time. Useless, inept, unfit, depraved.”

His voice breaks. He draws a short, quivering breath before going on.

“But then one day, thanks to Yuuko, I met Victor. She has never been afraid of being my friend, she’s always been kind to me.” The thought makes him smile. 

“She’d been gushing about this Russian skater for days, and when she showed me the footage of Victor’s junior debut, it was like a bolt from the blue. I don’t know why, I don’t know what drove me. But in that instant I realised I wanted to be like him. I resolved I would do anything to become like him. To catch up with him.”

Yuri listens to him silently. He had never imagined Yuuri’s life could have been that harsh, that horrible. He feels compassion for him, an empathy he has never felt before.

“The fact that I’ve always gained weight easily wasn’t of any help, of course. The skating instructor I had at the time didn’t even want to accept me in their classes. They advised my parents to give up, that with my body it would prove a waste of time, not to mention that nobody would ever want to invest on an omega like me.” He clutches tightly at the fabric he is torturing with his fingers until his knuckles go white. “Each and every day was a battle. Luckily, the suppressants have always been rather effective, so I managed to hide everything. I changed school and skating course. I left my past behind me and fought tooth and nail to win myself a spot in the skating world. And then, when last year I managed to qualify for the Grand Prix, all I could think about was that I would meet Victor, that we were going to skate on the same ice, that maybe, with some luck, I’d even be able to talk to him. And then…” He pauses for a second and swallows, his throat tight. “...I failed so miserably. Despite all my efforts, despite all my dedication. I had met everyone’s expectations. I was still the useless, incompetent kid everybody thought I was. The omega who would never be able to accomplish anything in his life. And when Victor offered to take a picture with me, I turned my back on him and left. I felt unworthy of even standing next to him.”

His hands are shaking as he utters those words, dredging up those memories is as painful as experiencing them first-hand.

“And then, well, he ended up here in the onsen, naked, offering to be my coach. Without any apparent reasons,” he smiles again at the memory, in spite of his eyes glistening with tears, as though he were talking about a dream.

“Even now, I can hardly believe he’s really here, by my side. That he believes in me, that he encourages me to keep going, careless of the people’s prejudices.”

“He knows you are an omega then,” Yuri asks him, and it is a silly question, so foolish that he regrets ever asking it the very moment the words leave his lips. But he needs to know, he needs to understand.

“He does now, but he didn’t when he decided to coach me. And nevertheless, he stayed.” He shakes his head. “I cannot believe someone like him, who could have anyone, have someone like you, could ever want someone like me.”

He lifts his gaze, and his eyes betray all his self-doubt and fear. Exactly like the day Yuri yelled at him he had better retire, in the ice rink’s toilet, after the Grand Prix. Now Yuri feels deeply ashamed at the mere thought. And he realises how similar they are after all, how they both fought against an unrewarding fate, trying to carve their path in the world in their own way. 

“That’s why, even though I know he’ll never be only mine,” Yuuri goes on, “and that I’ll have to share him with you, if it means I can keep staying by his side, then it’s all right, anything is fine.”

Yuri stares at him speechless, he can hardly believe Yuuri has just opened up to him like that. That he has confessed so many private and painful things about his life and his past. Now he feels foolish and childish for his behaviour, and it makes him feel uneasy. He does not want to feel inferior to him, it would be like admitting defeat. And he is not ready for that.

He turns his face away and lies down, he cannot bear his eyes on him in that moment.

“You have to finish with the cream,” he mutters, and Yuuri smiles, knowing it means much more than it seems.

He bends over at his side and squeezes some gel onto his palm, then smears it on his shoulder, gently.  
Yuri silently lets him do so for a few minutes, before leaning slightly towards him.  
He presses his forehead to his knee. A simple contact, almost imperceptible, yet it leaves Yuuri surprised and tongue-tied.

“Maybe I could accept it too, after all,” Yuri murmurs, his brow furrowed, his hands closed in a tight fist against the bed sheets. An odd feeling in his stomach.

 

 

Outside the room, leaning on the doorjamb, Victor smiles, holding his phone on which a missed call is still flashing. Yakov.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Yuuri is starting to open up with Yurio, a little step toward each other! and we got the big revelation (that it's not that big) about Yuuri's second gender.


	10. Chapter 10

The next morning, Yuri wakes up feeling terribly nauseous. He grimaces with disgust as he rolls onto his side, hoping to improve the situation, but that simple movement has the opposite effect. He barely has enough time to realise the wrongness of his choice before the bile comes up his throat. His eyes fly open, and he frees himself from the blankets with a jerk and scrambles out of the bed, a hand on his stomach and the other up to his mouth.

 

He runs out of the room at light speed, hurting his already aching shoulder against the doorpost, and he is quite sure he hit Yuuri in the process too, because he’s heard him moan painfully. Yet, he couldn’t care less as he sprints towards the toilet, which is luckily free. None of the guests seems to have awoken yet, and the onsen is shrouded in silence, considering that it is just a little after dawn.

 

He flings the door open and kneels beside the WC just in time. His stomach twitches and throws up the dinner from the previous night with painful spasms. The acid burns his throat as it comes up, making his eyes water. He coughs clutching the WC, and while retching, he hears hurried steps just behind him, and feels cool hands moving his hair aside and gathering them back.

 

He tries to draw back, he doesn’t want Victor to see him like that, it’s disgusting and humiliating. But a new spasm forces him to bend forward, silencing any complaint.

 

“Shhh, it’s all right, let it all out,” Victor whispers right behind him, massaging his back with circular movements, which soothes Yuri, despite the fact that he hates the idea of having Victor there. When there’s nothing left to throw up and his stomach seems to finally calm down, Yuri collapses against Victor, worn out, his abdominals sore and his throat burning.

 

Victor caresses his hair and he moves aside. That simple gesture is enough to make Yuri aware of the presence behind him and the revolting smell filling the room. He stands up quickly to flush the toilet and then bends over the washbasin to rinse his mouth.

 

“You don’t have to come every time,” he mutters before filling up his mouth with water and gargle, trying to wash away the taste of vomit.

 

“Of course I have to, it’s my duty, I want to take care of you,” he replies promptly, getting closer to make sure Yuri has not dirtied his hair.

 

Yuri slaps his hand away, feeling ashamed. “How come you don’t get it?! I don’t want you to see me in this state! I don’t want you to hold my hair while I throw up!” he exclaims furious simply because Victor has urged him to confess that out loud.

 

Victor looks at him for a while, almost surprised by his words. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a natural thing, it’s part of the pregnancy. And I want to be here for you.”

 

“It may be natural, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s disgusting and I don’t want you to see this!” Victor raises his eyebrow, noticing just how much his action puts Yuri on edge.

 

“Ok,” he says, “if it’s what you want, then I won’t do it anymore.”

 

“Thanks,” Yuri growls, turning to the washbasin once more, hoping that Victor will take the hint and leave him alone. Though it seems that as usual, or rather, every time it suits him, Victor is immune to his subliminal messages.

 

“Is there anything you would like to do later?” he asks, moving at his side to fix his own hair. Yuri watches him doing so, thinking that he really is a narcissist. He can’t stay “untidy” in the morning, not even for a second. Which is a pity, considering how sexy he is when he wakes up, with bed hair and a sleepy look, wearing nothing but boxers, just like now. Yuri blushes and looks away. Since the day they came back, he has never had the chance to get Victor’s attentions. At first due to the tight training schedule, then the Japanese Cup and now his accident. And he has certainly no intention of doing anything in that bathroom, not after throwing up all the content of his stomach in front of him. Yet this doesn’t change the fact that the very sight of his half-naked body shamefully turns him on straight away.

 

“I can’t come to the Ice Castle, can I?” he says, forcing himself to think about something else, hoping that, maybe, the question will make Victor angry enough to leave him alone.

 

“No. But we could go somewhere to have lunch if you want.”

 

“You’ve got only 30 minutes for lunch break between training sessions, where do you think we could ever go?” he points out, perfectly recalling the strict agenda he follows with Yuuri. It leaves him only a few minutes to eat sitting on the benches at the edge of the rink, whenever it’s too cold to stay outside, on the steps that lead to the building.

 

“I could free myself for 45 minutes,” Victor proposes thoughtfully, and he is clearly estimating and calculating all the consequences that could derive from stealing fifteen minutes from Yuuri’s training.

 

“Forget it,” Yuri huffs, walking away from the mirror to open the door. “I’ll stay here nice and easy, doing nothing and waiting for you to come home, like a good wife,” he mumbles, and furiously blushes as soon as those words leave his mouth. His eyes dart to Victor, and the surprise he feels by seeing him blushing in turn almost overcomes his own embarrassment.

 

“I… didn’t mean… fuck!” He lowers his head and turns around quickly. “Forget it!” he shouts, before fleeing from the bathroom as quickly as he can manage, leaving him there, speechless.

 

Running through the corridor, Yuri bites his lips. What the hell was he thinking when he said such a thing? His cheeks are burning at the mere thought, as he storms into the room with the grace of an infernal fury.

 

Yuuri spins around as soon as he enters. “Is everything alright?” he asks apprehensively, noticing straightaway his foul mood.

 

“Peachy,” Yuri answers sarcastically, kneeling on his luggage, or rather, on that bunch of things scattered on the floor, in order to find something to wear. Though several weeks have passed, he still persists in not putting his things away in Yuuri’s wardrobe, in hope of receiving a room all to himself sooner or later.

 

“Morning sickness again?” Yuuri asks, sitting on the bed to wear his socks, and he grunts something unintelligible in response. He should be kinder to him, especially after what happened last night and the way Yuuri opened up to him, but in that very moment he just can’t.

 

“They should be gone by now, it’s strange. Perhaps it is due to the food you’re not used to,” Yuuri ponders. “I could ask my mum if she can cook something lighter for you, if you want.”

 

“There’s no need,” he answers, taking off the upper part of the yukata, before giving him a withering glance. “You turning around or what?” he exclaims irritated, feeling oddly embarrassed to strip in front of him after the moment of intimacy shared the previous night. He’s fully aware of how foolish it is, since Yuuri has seen him naked countless times in the onsen and vice versa, but now it feels like two completely different things.

Yuuri looks away politely, without making the slightest comment, as he finishes undressing. He changes his underwear and ensures that the bandages are still in their place, and then he gets dressed as quickly as possible.

 

Victor joins them shortly after. His hair perfectly in order and the usual smile on his lips, as if nothing had happened. Yuri, for his part, feels his stomach tighten out of embarrassment and runs out of the room, his head down.

 

“What did you do to him?” Yuuri inquires, surprised by Yuri’s definitely unusual reaction at the sight of Victor.

 

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” he replies with his angelic tone and Yuuri raises his eyebrow, unconvinced.

 

“I swear I didn’t do a thing.”

 

“As you like.” Yuuri shrugs and stands up. It’s obvious Victor is hiding something, but he doesn’t want to force him to tell him against his will. Especially if it’s a thing between them that doesn’t concern him. “Shall we go have breakfast?”

 

“Well, to tell the truth it’s still pretty early,” Victor starts, getting closer to him, his steps slow and measured.

 

“I thought you wanted to take advantage of the situation and start training earlier,” Yuuri murmurs, finding it hard to concentrate while Victor puts his hands on his hips, sliding his thumbs up his shirt to caress the stretched skin on the pelvis bones.

 

“Actually I was thinking about another type of training,” he whispers, drawing him towards himself to press their pelvises together.

 

After hearing, or rather, prying into Yuuri and Yuri’s conversation the previous night, he spent the rest of it thinking about their situation. Somehow, he had always known just how much Yuuri admires him, but he had never thought that this admiration for him could be rooted so deeply in such a painful past. This is the reason why he now feels guilty for not dedicating him the attentions he deserves since Yuri came back in his life by force.

 

“Victor…” Yuuri holds his breath, glancing at the door while Victor’s hands move down, untying the bow that holds tightly his sweatpants. “I… don’t think it’s a good idea. Yurio…”

 

“He won’t come back, don’t worry. I have a feeling he will avoid me for the rest of the day.”

 

“You’ve really done something to him, then,” Yuuri exclaims, regaining a little bit of clarity before feeling his cool fingers sliding under the hem of his pants to grab his growing erection. It makes him feel ashamed of how easily his body reacts to Victor’s presence.

 

“I told you it’s not like that. He let out that he’ll be waiting for me at home like a good wife and then he ran away, that’s it,” he admits naively and Yuuri cannot prevent himself from blushing, torn between jealousy and arousal at the thought of Yuri welcoming them back from the Ice Castle with a sweet “okaeri” and wearing only a scanty apron.

 

It doesn’t take long for Victor to notice his reaction and smirks. “Does it turn you on, by any chance?” he asks softly, slightly tightening the grip on his cock, drawing a stifled moan from him.

 

“No!” Yuuri exclaims, cheeks burning, knowing perfectly that it’s a lie. But he doesn’t want to admit to having been having perverted thoughts on Yuri for quite a while now. Since that night he heard him moaning in his own bed while Victor was touching him, to be precise.

 

“Hmmm… I think it does. I can feel it,” Victor teases him and Yuuri tries to wriggle free from him.

 

“Victor!” he groans, embarrassed beyond expression, as his cock swells in Victor’s fingers, betraying him miserably. Victor smiles and grants him some long-lasting caresses before capturing his lips in a hot kiss, making his stomach flutter.

 

“Do you want to train a little bit?” he asks in a quiet voice, smiling slightly, breaking the kiss. Yuuri trembles, he can smell the musky scent of his pheromones, now stronger after the night spent under the blankets in that small room. Victor hasn’t had the chance to wash it away with the masking soap, and it’s causing Yuuri’s legs to go weak. He nods without even realising it and Victor kisses him lightly, backing too soon.

 

“Lie down. Keep your arms high, against the headboard,” Victor orders with steady yet soft voice, and he obeys without hesitation. He would have never thought he could appreciate receiving orders in that way, nor that he would be so happy to comply. But right now it’s all he wishes for. Each and every fibre of his being seems to respond to Victor’s requests and rejoice in the pleasure of submission, relinquishing all control to him.

 

Victor crawls on the bed between his legs and lowers his trousers, slowly undressing him. Yuuri’s arousal is shamelessly evident and makes him uneasy, but Victor pays no mind to it.

He bends over him and bathes in the smell of his tense groin. Despite not being in heat and constantly using special soaps to mask the smell, the scent of Yuuri’s pheromones is incredibly sweet, causing a growl to rise from the bottom of his throat.

Yuuri gasps at that sound and his cock quivers a bit. To hear Victor, his alpha, reacting so intensely to him, satisfies his omega instincts fully.

 

“I wish you didn’t have to use those masking soaps,” Victor whines, scrubbing his nose on Yuuri’s inner thigh.

 

“I have to… and you know it,” he gasps breathlessly. His erection is already leaking, stuck in his boxers. Victor growls something in Russian and then lowers Yuuri’s underwear, exposing him completely. The fresh air of the room makes him shiver together with excitement for what is about to come. However, Victor doesn’t touch him, even though he’s so close that Yuuri can feel his warm breath on his stretched skin, so close their lips are but an inch apart.

He moans at the mere thought and shamelessly spreads his legs, unable to control his own desire.

 

“Victor…” he calls, begging for something, anything, and Victor answers his call by pressing a finger against his quivering opening, making him moan loudly. He covers his mouth with both hands. The entire onsen is quiet and he has a feeling his voice could be heard in every corner.

Victor smiles, pressing a little bit more, enough to feel the warmth inside, but not deep enough to penetrate him.

 

“Your body is so sensitive, Yuuri, almost as if it were your first time,” he comments, and Yuuri can only cover his face with a hand as best as he can, whining in embarrassment.

 

Despite the fact that it’s not the first time for Victor to dedicate him that kind of attentions, nor is he the first one to have done that to him, Yuuri still can’t get used to it fully, and reacts as if it were his first heat all over again, when he was still untouched and everything was so new and madly intense.

Victor finally comes forward to his full erection and gives it a long lick from base to tip, and then takes it in his mouth. The sensation is so sudden and unexpected that it’s almost enough to make him come. This doesn’t go unnoticed, and Victor promptly draws back before it’s too late.

 

“Yuuri, Yuuri… We need to work on your endurance,” he teases him with the same tone he would use when scolding him for a failed jump, and Yuuri feels himself blush. He’s always been overly sensitive and not able to last for long, though his great stamina allows him to begin all over again and again, countless times, before actually feeling fatigued.

Victor stands back to search the room, as if looking for something. His eyes light up when they fall on Yuuri’s phone, left on the bedside table with the headphones still attached to it. He grabs them under Yuuri’s confused gaze.

 

“Victor?”

 

“Do you trust me?” Victor asks, just like the day he brought him to heaven in the storage room in the back of the onsen. And Yuuri nods, this time without hesitation.

 

“You have to say it.”

 

“I trust you,” he whispers breathlessly, and Victor smiles, bending over to kiss him, as if wanting to reward his trust, before sitting back on his heels. He unrolls the headphones and then caresses Yuuri’s erection with a hand. Yuuri moans, pushing his pelvis high to meet his touch, already peaking. It could only take a few more caresses to make him come.

 

“This will help you last longer,” Victor explains as he wraps the string around the base of his cock. “Unfortunately I couldn’t bring my rings with me, but this will still do,” he whispers absent-mindedly. Upon hearing those words, Yuuri almost chokes. He’s no expert in sex toys, but knows very well what Victor is referring to, and the thought of him owning such a thing, and even more than one, makes him twist on the blanket.

 

“Is it too tight?” Victor asks, misunderstanding his movements, and fearing to have wrapped the string too tightly for Yuuri’s first time, but he quickly shakes his head, trying to calm down and shoo away the image of Victor wearing a heavy shiny metal ring at the base of his cock.

 

“No… but… it feels weird,” he answers. He can’t decide whether he likes that pressure or not, but he wants to trust Victor and really wants to last longer for him.

 

“I know, but you’ll get used to it soon enough.” Victor ties it in a simple knot, fastening the string in position. He then bends down to lick a drop of Yuuri’s pre cum, already surfacing on the tip, before taking him whole into his mouth, down to the base. He can feel the plastic of the headphones against his lips and Yuuri’s hands going up to firmly grab his hair. Yuuri moans, pushing himself higher towards him, drowning helplessly in his mouth until he touches the back of Victor’s throat. Victor breathes through the nose and lets him do that, relaxing the throat to be able to welcome him as deeply as possible, letting the tongue run playfully along his hot erection.

 

Yuuri moans and pulls back just to propel himself high again. He should probably stay still, he might be suffocating him right now, yet Victor doesn’t withdraw nor complain. He indulges his movements caressing his thighs with his right hand and slowly drawing circles against his opening with the left. He then thrusts a finger deep inside him, hitting his prostate and making him scream due to the intensity of that sensation.

 

Yuuri is only vaguely aware of the fact that the entire onsen has most likely heard him, but being trapped between Victor’s scorching mouth and his fingers, he’s on the verge of madness so he doesn’t really care about it.

 

He knows he could come at any time, _that_ would be more than enough to bring him beyond his limit, but the constraint on his cock prevents him from peaking, extending the torture without making Victor stop to let him cool down, just like when they were in the storage room.

 

He feels him press a second finger against his opening, slightly forcing it to penetrate, and his breath becomes irregular. He closes his eyes and strongly tightens the grip on Victor’s head, swaying his pelvis and chasing after that orgasm he cannot reach, as Victor keeps on stimulating ceaselessly his prostate, sending shocks throughout his whole body.

Victor grunts around Yuuri’s cock when he pulls his hair, pushing himself deep inside his mouth. He reaches down to touch his own erection, inwardly thankful that he’s only wearing boxers. Yuuri’s reactions are so intense, so spontaneous, as to undermine his self-restraint, and he can feel the base of his cock already swelling. He plunges his hand into his briefs, indulging in a long caress. Under him, Yuuri moans, wriggling in so delicious a way that resisting him is almost impossible.

 

“Please… Victor, please!” he moans feverishly, unconcerned that it is only dawn and his voice is probably being heard loud and clear throughout the whole onsen.

Victor draws back, letting the tip of Yuuri’s cock slide out of his mouth with a wet pop.

 

“What is it that you want, Yuuri? Tell me,” he demands with a deep, dark voice, burning with desire.

 

“I want… more… I want you,” he begs, and Victor growls, pushing a third finger inside him, forcefully, getting a surprised cry of pleasure out of him. He moves his fingers swiftly, scissoring them rhythmically, and Yuuri melts beneath him into incoherent moans, urging and pleading.

Victor jerks his own boxers down, exposing his fully erect cock, and Yuuri groans at the sight, wondering whether Victor is really going to take him even though they have training that morning, and his mouth waters at the mere idea of it.

But Victor doesn’t seem to have the slightest intention of stopping, or giving up torturing his prostate. Instead, he grasps an end of the earbuds wire with his free hand.

 

“Come Yuuri, come for me,” he commands, easing the tight pressure around Yuuri’s cock, and at the same time pressing hard inside him. The orgasm is intense and overwhelming, and Yuuri arches his back, shaken by pleasure. Victor follows his movement, keeping the pressure against his deepest spot, prolonging the climax to its maximum extent as he pumps his cock frenziedly.

When Yuuri finally relaxes on the mattress again, he pulls his fingers out and rubs his opening a couple of times with the tip before coming against Yuuri’s arse. He moans, bending over him, head pressed against his shoulder, as he squeezes the knot at the base of his cock to get the feeling of Yuuri’s warm walls clenching around him.

As soon as his muscles relax, he slumps against Yuuri’s chest panting heavily, and then rolls over at his side. He slightly lifts his head to look at his knot, swollen and throbbing, and sighs, now it’s going to stay like that for at least half an hour.

 

“You always drive me over the edge. I almost fucked you, despite the training,” he slurs, turning his head to meet Yuuri’s eyes, who would like to have the decency to blush at those words, but is too worn-out and satisfied to manage that.

“I wish you had,” he replies instead, gaining himself a light chuckle from Victor.

 

“Sorry, I’ve made a mess, you’ll have to take a shower,” Victor notices, looking down at the splash of thick liquid spread all over his arse and part of the sheets, and the spots on his chest.

 

“Nevermind, I had to anyway,” he murmurs, reaching a hand down to smear Victor’s cum on his stomach. “And I like having your scent on me.” He looks up at Viktor shamelessly.

 

“Fuck,” Victor hisses through gritted teeth, grabbing the base of his erection and squeezing it firmly, as a few other droplets of sperm gush from the head spurting weakly.

 

Yuuri giggles and rolls onto his side to kiss his cheek, even though maybe it’s not the best thing to do right now, given Victor’s tension.

 

“Thank you. It was incredible,” he adds with a sheepish smile. “I may have judged your… inclinations too hastily.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Victor asks, shifting his attention from his own erection to him.

 

“Yes…” Yuuri answers, his cheeks getting red, now that his blood is flowing again in his upper body, bringing a bit of lucidity to his brain. “And I think I want to know more about it,” he adds in a whisper, unable to look at him in the eye, as his gaze falls on the earbuds lying on the sheet, and he knows he won’t be able to use them again without getting an erection.

 

Victor props himself up on his elbow, he’s fully focussed now. “Are you sure?”

 

He nods slowly, and Victor draws him into a hug. “I’d be happy to show you my world and the things I love,” he murmurs, “but we’ll do it slowly, there’s no need to hurry,” he adds, and Yuuri feels relieved, realising how tense he has actually been confessing those thoughts.

 

“Thanks,” he whispers, leaning his head on Victor’s chest, savouring that brief moment of intimacy before getting up and face the day.

 

 

******

 

They eventually leave the onsen without running into Yuri. As Victor has expected, he’s doing his best to avoid him, with remarkable results.

But as much as Yuri can hide from Victor, he cannot do the same from the persistent symptoms of a pregnancy. Primarily, the cravings that never fail to come every morning, after he’s thrown up the dinner of the previous evening.

He pads through the onsen, now fully operative. He’s waited so long that he is sure breakfast time has come and gone, but he’s still wary of coming across Victor in a corridor, even though he’s aware that it’s quite unlikely now.

His stomach growls, famished, and his mouth starts watering, as the thought of pickled cucumbers and mayonnaise floods his mind.

He’s disgusted by himself at the idea of eating something like that, but he can’t help it. Until a few months ago, he wouldn’t had even touched such food. Mayo because of the unholy amount of calories it contains, and pickles, well, they simply suck. But now he looks forward to sinking his teeth into them and stuffing his mouth. And maybe drink some of the brine, for the sake of a thorough job. ~~~~

He’s so absorbed in his thoughts, as he walks through the onsen to get to the kitchen, that he starts when Hiroko’s voice brings him back to reality.

 

“Ohayou, Yurio-kun,” she welcomes him, beaming.

 

“O–Ohayou,” he mutters in his rather halting Japanese - which he forces himself to speak only with her anyway - trying not to appear excessively surprised to see her. Being in the same room as her still feels awkward. He’s never got the chance to apologise for his behaviour of the other day, and he has mostly avoided her. Her knowing about his pregnancy still makes him extremely uneasy, and he has no clue how to actually address the issue with her.

 

“Would you like me to prepare something for your breakfast, dear?” she asks in her heavily accented English, drying up her hands on her apron.

 

“No, I can manage, thank you,” he replies without looking at her. He opens the door of the large commercial refrigerator buzzing noisily in the kitchen corner, and stands on his tiptoes to peek on the highest shelf. There is no trace of the cucumbers he hoped to find, and it bothers him to no end, however he finds a half-empty jar of tsukemono and decides they make for a nice fallback. Then he fishes out a 2kg jar of Japanese mayo, which, if possible, is even better than the European one, and perches himself on a high stool behind the counter, somehow managing to cross his legs despite the little room available. He wrestles with the jar for a whole minute under Hiroko’s entertained gaze before eventually getting the better of it, only to realise he cannot just dunk the pickles into it, as he would have done if he’d been home. He turns around, lost, the idea of getting down from his perch to fetch a plate is not at all appealing, now that he’s found such a comfortable position, but Hiroko promptly hands him one along with a spoon, a tender smile on her lips.

 

“Thank you,” he mumbles, embarrassed by the woman’s alacrity. He scoops a huge spoonful and drops it on the plate, then opens the jar of tsukemono and starts dipping them into the mayo, stuffing them into his mouth two at a time.

 

Hiroko looks on in amusement before joining him at his side with a heavy sigh.

Yuri stops chewing, he can feel her presence without even turning around, and his heart speeds up in his chest, preparing him for the probable – inevitable – speech he can almost see approaching. But the woman surprises him by asking the question he was expecting the least.

 

 

“Your birthday is coming up soon, isn’t it, Yurio-kun?” she asks, and his jaw drops at those words, just like in a cartoon, but he has the decency to quickly close his mouth, preventing its half-chewed content from being openly displayed.

 

“I… yes. On the first of March,” he confirms, wondering what the hell Hiroko is getting at with that question.

 

“Oh good, good, then we still have time to get ready,” she says, heaving a sigh of relief.

 

“Get ready for what?”

 

“For your birthday party, of course,” she laughs, as though he was making fun of her pretending not to understand.

 

“Oh… no, there’s no need, really, no, I don’t want any party,” he says hastily, putting down the slice of pickled carrot he’s holding. The last thing he wants is going to a party held in his honour, surrounded by strangers, and worrying all the time about hiding his belly and his ridiculous cravings.

 

“Oh, come on! You’re turning eighteen, it’s an important event!” she smiles. “It happens only once in a lifetime, you know,” she adds, in a miserably-failing attempt to make him laugh. “And I’d like to cook something Russian for the occasion. You probably miss the Russian cuisine, don’t you? Vicchan must be missing it a great deal as well. Sure, I’m not an excellent cook, but I’ll do my best. I saw this recipe that…” and she goes on and on for a good ten minutes, listing traditional Russian dishes with a pronunciation so weird that Yuri can barely understand what she’s talking about.

The idea of eating some dishes typical of his country leaves a bittersweet taste in his mouth. On the one hand, he’d like that more than he can say, he really yearns for the familiar flavours of his homeland. On the other hand he’s afraid, because he knows that they would most likely bring back all those thoughts he’s been trying to keep at bay since he got there, first and foremost about his grandfather. However, Hiroko looks so excited at the idea that cannot bring himself to tell her not to.

 

“If you want… I can help you prepare _kholodets_ , I often used to, when I was…” _at home, with grandpa_ “…in Russia,” he finishes, swallowing the lump in his throat. “It’s a sort of beef stew, it’s very tasty.”

 

“Oh yes, that would be perfect! But I don’t want to have you working on your birthday,” she adds thoughtfully, almost feeling guilty for accepting so quickly.

 

“It’s not like I’ve got much to do anyway,” he huffs gloomily.

 

“Keep your chin up, dear!” she cheers him up, patting him lightly on the hand. “You still have, how many, five months to go? They’ll be gone in the blink of an eye, even too soon, and you’ll be back to skating before you know it.”

 

That horrible sensation in the pit of his stomach is there again, and Yuri feels adrenaline running in his veins like liquid ice.

 

“How do you know? Did Victor tell you?” he asks sharply, shoving her hand away, this time he is going to get answers. And if that idiot Victor has truly dared tell anyone, he’ll have his guts for garters.

 

“Oh honey, I’ve had two children, I can recognise the symptoms of a pregnancy, I don’t need anyone to tell me,” she replies with a sly smile, slightly tilting her head to the side, and Yuri knows he’s just made a fool of himself.

 

“Is it that obvious?” he asks, after a long moment’s silence, glancing down to his stomach. Yes, it’s a tad more swollen than usual, but not so much as to be evident through his clothes. _Right?_

 

“No,” Hiroko reassures him, meeting his eyes. “I just know what to look for.” She indicates the pickles with a nod. “The cravings, the morning sickness, the mood swings, the hysterical crying.” She shrugs. “I went through this before you. Many years ago, more than I like to admit!” she chuckles, and Yuri is amazed again by the ease with which she talks about something like that.

 

“When I was pregnant with Mari, I craved for caramel pudding throughout the whole pregnancy, you know? I ate so many that now I feel sick as soon as I see one!” she says amused, and Yuri can’t help smiling. “And with Yuuri, I couldn’t stand the smell of fish. Which is a bit of a problem if you live in a seaside town, and there’s fish in ninety percent of the recipes you cook.”

 

“It happened the same to me, with raw chicken,” Yuri finds himself saying before realising it. Opening up to her is way too easy. Maybe it’s because he’s never had a mother figure in his life, but anyway he feels at ease with her, as though they both belonged to the same family.

 

“Oh yes! Sometimes it can be nasty, too! But they’ll be gone soon, you’ll see. Or they will just get worse, it depends!” she laughs, managing to get a giggle out of him as well.

 

“And what about the swollen ankles? From the sixth month I had to give up slippers, and even socks would leave a mark!” she recalls cheerfully, and Yuri doesn’t need to stretch his imagination, as he casts a glance at her ham-like ankles, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell her the pregnancy was most likely not the only one to blame. He can’t help but think that, though. “Sorry, I’m probably boring you with this stories,” she adds, slightly bowing her head, as she has noticed Yuri’s gaze wandering.

 

“No, not at all!” he exclaims, maybe too quickly, making her smile. But talking about those little things about pregnancy so light-heartedly makes him feel better, as though her words and anecdotes could lift off his chest some of the weight that his situation has dropped on it.

 

“Have you already felt it move?” she suddenly asks excitedly, moving closer, and he shakes his head, almost surprised at the question.

 

“Sometimes… I think I can feel something,” he admits anyway. He’s never told anyone because he’s sure it’s all in his head. The baby must be still too tiny to be able to really feel it.

 

“Like a butterfly fluttering in your stomach?” she asks, a wide smile on her lips, her eyes shining. And he nods, it’s exactly that feeling.

 

“Ah, it was the same for me. Such beautiful memories,” she sighs dreamily, cupping her face with both hands. She looks like the kind of woman who would have liked to have many more children, but life doesn’t always grant your wishes, and reality is often harsher than dreams.

 

“Hiroko,” Yuri calls her, and she snapped out of her daydreaming.

 

“Yes, dear?”

 

“Doesn’t this… bother you?” he asks, glancing hesitantly at her.

 

“What?” she frowns.

 

“This. Me and… Victor, the child. Since Yuuri and Victor… they… well…” he stammers, unable to find the words, and he wonders how that woman manages to turn him into a shy, stuttering child.

 

“You know, I have seen Yuuri hurting for many years,” she says, shifting into a more comfortable position, leaning her aching back against the wall behind her. “He’s never had an easy life.” She weighs her words up, not sure whether he knows the truth about Yuuri’s secondary gender* or not.

 

“I know, he told me,” he confesses, sparing her the embarrassment.

 

“Oh… really?” She looks genuinely surprised at that. Yuuri has never quite opened up to anyone on that topic, save for Yuuko and Phichi at least, and of course his own family. And if he’s told Yuri about that, then he cares about him more that she had imagined. He smiles at the thought and goes on. “I’m glad. It means he trusts you, it’s a good sign.”

 

Yuri is not sure what he is supposed to answer. It’s not like their relationship is based on confidence or something like that, he surely doesn’t trust him, not yet. But maybe Yuuri begs to differ.

 

“At any rate, he does seem happy now. Since Vicchan came here to coach him, he’s greatly changed. I would have never thought, _hoped_ , to see him so happy with someone, not after…” She stops for a moment, as though she’s let something she should not have said escape her mouth, “… all he had to go through in the past,” she manages to finish, and Yuri has not the slightest intention to inquire any further. He doesn’t want to know more than he already does, not by any means. If there are other things Yuuri hasn’t told him yet, that is.

 

“So if he’s okay with that, if it’s not a problem for him to have a polygamous relationship, I won’t most certainly be the one to meddle, or tell him it’s wrong. If he’s happy, then I am happy for him,” she smiles, “and I hope it’s the same for you, too.”

 

She reaches out her hand to brush his. “Victor is a good guy, a good alpha, there are not many others like him out there, I am sure he’ll be able to take care of you both,” she adds, lightly squeezing his hand and patting it, her full lips stretched in a smile.

 

“So, don’t worry about it! And if you have any questions, or if you need anything, please come to me, okay?” she asks getting up, and for a second Yuri fears she is going to hug him, just to feel disappointed when she doesn’t. But then he immediately recalls that in Japan, with its weird customs, bodily contact is not as welcome and natural as it is in the rest of the world.

 

“Thanks,” he whispers. “Really,” he adds, feeling a sudden way of affection for that woman who, despite being basically nobody for him, has somehow managed to grow on him, securing herself a spot in his heart. A spot that should have belonged to the woman who conceived him, the woman he should have been calling mother.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say that this chapter kind of came out of the blue as I needed to give poor Yuuri some attention as well (I wish I’d managed to do a better job) and clarify things between Hiroko and Yuri. I hope you liked their scene, because I honestly loved it! I adore Hiroko in her “mother hen” version, so affectionate towards Yuri as well, and I can quite picture her all excited about his pregnancy and at the idea of becoming a grandma
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> So said, I want to thank Maple&Shrike who keep doing and AMAZING job translating the story!
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> See you next chapter!
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> *Tsukemono: traditional Japanese pickles.
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> *secondary gender: alpha/beta/omega. Primary gender: male/female.


	11. Chapter 11

“Yurio!” Victor calls him with his singsong voice and a big smile plastered all over his face on that fateful morning of his birthday. “Omedeto!!”

 

Yuri glares at him from the corner of the main room in which he took refuge to stay as further away from the others as possible. “Stop talking to me in Japanese! It’s disgusting!” he snaps, sour.

 

“Yurio∼ Don’t be in such a bad mood, today’s a special day!”

 

“Do tell… it’s just a day like any other,” he answers. “And stop calling me that!” he adds, grumpier than usual after that rude awakening.

 

A few days after the chat with Hiroko, Yu-topia had been quieter enough for him to receive a room all for himself, and he had leapt at the opportunity to avoid Yuuri as much as possible, after his humiliating confession to be willing to accept a polygamous relationship with him and Victor.

But as night fell, he hadn’t been able to get any sleep. He had tossed and turned for hours, the bed too big for him, so cold and empty without Victor at his side and the now familiar sound of Yuuri’s breathing at his feet.

 

He wouldn’t have admitted it even under torture, but if he could have chosen, he would have run back to their room, after all.

The night after had been, if possible, even worse, so without fully realising it, he had found himself right in front of Yuuri’s door, his arms clutching the pillow like a child seeking comfort during a storm.

He had knocked softly, and Yuuri’s sleepy voice inviting him to come in had almost made him change his mind. Almost.

As expected, they were sleeping together, Victor with his shoulders facing the wall, and Yuuri with his back against Victor’s chest. Yuri’s heartbeat had accelerated at the sight, but he had resolved to be strong. If Katsudon was so sure they could share Victor and was ok with it, then he wouldn’t be outdone.

 

Words were not needed. Victor had raised the bed sheets with a warm smile, and Yuuri had made room at his side, perhaps too drowsy to fully realise what was actually happening.

Lowering the head he had gritted his teeth and crawled onto the bed with them, staying at arm’s length from Yuuri, firmly intentioned not to come in contact with him in any way, and luckily the darkness of the room had hidden the blush on his cheeks.

 

He’d fallen asleep with his heart beating way too fast and his stomach unsettled due to all those new and strange emotions blooming inside him.

And when, that morning, he had awoken wrapped in a warm and cozy cocoon, his face planted on Yuuri’s chest, his arms softly hanging on his hips, he’d felt his cheeks going ablaze and his stomach twitching almost painfully.

He’d stood quickly screaming “Stupid Katsudon!” at the top of his lungs before dashing away, leaving them staggered and confused.

 

And now he finds himself there, with Victor jabbering about his birthday party, the least of his problems at the moment.

 

“With today, you’re finally of age! It’s a great change!” he goes on, bringing him back to reality.

 

Yuri raises an eyebrow, staring at him with his arms crossed. “And what does this great change imply exactly?”

 

“For instance, you can drink alcohol! And get a driving licence!” he exclaims, and then kneels down to him to whisper only a few millimetres from his lips: “And I won’t be risking to go to jail for having you in my bed anymore.”

 

Yuri blushes and scowls.

 

“I haven’t been in your bed for months, by now!” he huffs, trying to conceal his lust with anger.

 

“You were in my bed right last night.”

 

“Don’t remind me about that! And it wasn’t your bed anyway. And you know precisely what I mean!” he replies annoyed, stressing every word.

 

“Yes, I got it. And I’m sorry, I promise I’ll make up for it.”

 

“Yeah, you promise, making promises is all you can do! Pity that you never keep them!” he snaps huffy, then gets up and lopes out of the room, more frustrated than he should be. Maybe the hormones are taking over yet again. He’s definitely not going to take into account the idea that the frustration is being caused by the strange thoughts about Yuuri which had been making their way in his mind since that morning.

 

*

 

Despite his foul mood, he’s forced to take part in a little birthday party organised by the others on that very evening. He grits his teeth and works out a fake smile. The last thing he wants is to be asked why he is in a bad mood.

The _kholodets_ he cooked that afternoon together with Hiroko, as promised, is delicious, causing tears to well up in his eyes as he eats it and feels the scents and flavours of home. Luckily, nobody seems to be paying attention to him while he dries the tears with the sleeve of his hoodie, trying to push the memories back.

 

However, when it’s time to open the presents, melancholy gets replaced by discomfort. He wasn’t certainly expecting to receive anything from those people who are, after all, little more than strangers to him.

They are little gifts: a keychain in the shape of a cat from Mari, a perfume from Yuuko and her husband, a drawing from the triplets, a new pair of skate guards with a leopard-skin motif from Victor (“as a good omen for when you’ll be skating again” is the message written in the small card attached to the box), an expensive-looking shea butter cream from Yuuri, but it still feels strange to him. He’s not used to celebrating, especially not with so many people around him. When he unwraps the last present, a bigger package than the others, rectangular and heavy, from Yuuri’s mother, and finds a book on pregnancy inside, he blushes all the way through his ears. Not to mention when she added nonchalantly: “You’ll have to get help from Yuuri to read it, unfortunately I wasn’t able to get one in English.”

 

He rushes to hide it among the other gifts, hoping that nobody has noticed the woman smiling ear to ear on the cover, showing off her definitely huge baby bump. He doesn’t really know how many of them are truly aware of his pregnancy, except Hiroko, but he’s certainly not willing to find out.

Anyway, he thanks everyone in embarrassment and hastily gulps down his slice of cake so he can hide in his room as soon as he gets the chance. He places the gifts on the dresser and leafs through the pages of his new book absentmindedly. It seems nice, although incomprehensible for him, ‘till his eyes fall on a picture from the chapter dedicated to the caesarean section, a neat image in foreground of a baby head coming out the belly of a man, like in one of the scenes from _Alien_. He closes the book with a start, and hides it in the drawer of the dresser, under a messy pile of T-shirts and then sighs, his skin still crawling.

He had hoped that leaving the party sooner would make him feel better, but finding himself back there again, alone, is not as pleasant as he had imagined. All solitude does is increase his doubts and questions that crowd his mind, but luckily, after just a few minutes, the noise of somebody knocking at the door distracts him.

 

“Yuri.” Victor’s warm voice makes his heart skip a beat. He comes in without waiting for permission. “Why did you run away like that?” he asks approaching him. He wraps his arms around Yuri and he shrugs. Even he doesn’t know why. He feels Victor sink his face in his neck and breathe in.

 

“God, since you’ve stopped taking the suppressants you’ve got a wonderful scent,” he exhales, rubbing his nose right behind his ear, eyes closed, his own question already forgotten.

 

“Really?” Yuri asks, his voice faltering and his heart racing in his chest, and Victor nods taking another deep breath.

 

He had never really thought about having a _scent_. Naturally, like everyone else, he had followed the lessons since primary school, learning the bare minimum between giggles and sarcastic comments with his classmates, so he had always known that both alphas and omegas release pheromones to attract potential partners and mark their possession over each other, and that they have an intense, pleasant scent. But having grown up believing to be just a common beta, he’d never paid attention to it, so that’s probably why he’d never really perceived them in the first place. But now, this arouses his interest. And the thought of Victor being attracted to _his_ scent and not to some cheap chemical surrogate bought in a shop makes him quiver.

 

“What do I smell like?” he whispers, slightly tilting his head to grant him better access.

 

“You smell of omega… of something sweet... it’s almost like ripe fruit and summer flowers…” Victor answers, trying to name those delightful scents he smells on him, moving a little bit higher on his hair, far from the nape of the neck and the spot he knows is off-limits. He doesn’t want to do something he might regret afterwards. “... and of me”.

 

“Of you? Really?” he asks surprised. “I didn’t even sleep with you, I can’t possibly smell of you.”

 

“It’s not that… I think it’s the baby,” he whispers, inhaling even deeper with his eyes closed, his forehead furrowed trying to better define with words what he’s perceiving. “Your smell tells me you’re pregnant, that you’re no longer available, and… that you’re mine,” he adds, and Yuri feels his legs give in upon hearing those word, because of what they are implying. He belongs to Victor. To him.

He feels butterflies in his stomach but he wonders if it’s really like this, and knows there’s only one answer. No. He won’t be his ‘till Victor marks him. And apparently it’s not going to happen any time soon.

 

“Do you think other people can smell it, too?” he asks hesitantly.

 

“I don’t know, maybe, I think so. Why?”

 

“Huh, no reason in particular.” He shrugs and tries to sound nonchalant, yet he really hopes everyone can smell it and know that he’s Victor’s and that their baby is growing inside him. Then he suddenly frowns. He turns just enough to sink his face between Victor’s shoulder and neck and inhales sharply.

 

“I can’t smell anything on you though,” he admits, and he’s certain he should be able to perceive something. He remembers the lessons at school about the intensity of alphas’ pheromones, and how strong and intoxicating are for omegas. But he doesn’t smell anything.

 

“It’s because of the specific soaps I use to mask my scent,” he answers casually.

 

“Why?” he asks, frowning. Many omegas use them, there are entire sectors in supermarkets dedicated to those products, but he didn’t think alphas used them as well.

 

“Because it’s not _nice_ to go around and show off your status. Pheromones can be very intense and sometimes it can lead to unpleasant situations. Using masking soaps makes everything easier,” he patiently explains.

 

“Like for omegas?”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“So I’ll have to use them too?” He recalls he has seen a bottle in the bathroom next to Yuuri’s room, when he was showering.

 

“If you feel like it. But for now it’s not necessary. Like I said, your smell is proof that you’re not on the market anymore,” he smiles, and this seems to be extremely satisfying for him, so Yuri nods.

 

“Good.” He didn’t feel like doing it anyway. He likes the idea that everyone can smell his scent and know that he’s carrying Victor’s child.

 

Silence falls between them and is prolonged ‘till Victor breaks it.

 

“I was thinking…” he starts, pulling him away from his own self-satisfaction “... that now that you have a room all to yourself, we could watch that movie” he whispers directly into his ear, before kissing it, sending warm shivers down his spine.

 

“Really?” he gasps, arousal suddenly hitting him hard.

 

“Hm-mh.”

 

“You’re not fucking around with me, are you?” he asks, suspicious.

 

“Not yet.” is the cheeky answer that Victor whispers against his neck, before biting him playfully.

 

“Idiot!”

 

Victor draws back, chuckling.

 

“So are you in?”

 

“Of course I am!” he answers excited.

 

Victor smiles and turns on the DVD player, inserting a random DVD taken from the bare collection at the side of the TV. He then sits down on the bed, his back resting against the headboard and his long legs lying on the bed sheets.

 

“Come here,” he calls for him softly, patting his thighs, and Yuri doesn’t need to hear it twice. He takes off those stupid slippers he’s forced to wear inside the onsen and slips on his lap, back to his chest. He sighs and better curls up against him. He closes his eyes for a second and it seems like being back in Russia, while Victor wraps his arms around his waist.

 

When the film begins the actors’ voices bring him back to reality. He frowns.

 

“The fuck is this? It’s in Japanese!” he snaps, slightly tilting his head to look at the kanji of the opening credits.

 

“Does it even matter? You wouldn’t follow it anyway,” Victor murmurs, leaving a trail of wet kisses on his nape, as his hands run lustfully along his thighs. And Yuri can’t really retort. He couldn’t care less of what happens on the screen. He tilts his head to give him better access on his neck and pants heavily. Victor unbuttons his jeans and puts his hands inside, pushing them down, infinitely slowly, and letting his palms run along his thighs. When they reach the knees, Yuri kicks them away, impatient, making Victor laugh.

 

“You’re always in such a rush,” he laughs at him and is about to add something more, but Yuri turns enough to lock his lips in a hot kiss. He cheekily pushes the tongue in his mouth, challenging him to regain control over him. Victor almost growls against his lips, fighting to get the supremacy back. He sinks a hand in his hair and pulls, forcing him to recline the head and open his mouth wide in a moan of pleasure. Yuri lost.

 

“If you don’t calm down… I won’t be able to hold back,” he huffs against his lips, without letting go, his eyes half-lidded trying to focus and not to push him down and take him by force, without waiting another second. “And you don’t want it to finish too soon, do you?”

 

Yuri squirms against him, whining. A wet spot is already expanding on his tented boxers.

 

“No…” he murmurs, although his body is screaming otherwise.

“Then you’ll have to behave,” Victor whispers, biting his lower lip and sucking it lecherously. He then loosens the hold on his hair and dedicates himself on his neck, kissing and sucking, leaving a trail of red marks from the collarbone to the delicate skin right behind the ear.

When he finally moves on to his underwear, sliding it down, Yuri shudders at the feeling of his hot, bulging erection exposed to the fresh air. Victor caresses his inner thigh, admiring him over Yuri’s shoulder. With his free hand he lifts Yuri’s t-shirt just enough to uncover his belly. His baby bump is now soft and puffed up, in a way that makes him appear fat rather than pregnant and this embarrasses him greatly. He crosses his arms and raises his legs in an effort to cover himself, but Victor stops him.

 

“No, don’t. I want to look at you,” he whispers, and his eyes burn on Yuri’s skin. “You’re so beautiful, Yuri,” he murmurs with such intensity that makes his toes curl.

 

“Please… I can’t hold back any longer”, Yuri pleads, rotating his hips against him, impatient.

 

“Wait. I’ve got a present for you.” Victor interrupts him, grabbing his hips to make him stay still.

 

“Another one?” he asks surprised.

 

“I thought it would be better to give it to you in private,” is the enigmatic answer he gives him before pushing him aside in order to stand up.

 

He gets off the bed leaving him alone and Yuri complains, stretching on the mattress to try and hold him, but in vain.

He comes back carrying a little, rectangular box in his hands, velvet-lined in deep black and presenting an elaborate golden brand right in the middle.

Yuri takes it and frowns, confused. He knows the kind of gifts Victor likes to give him, but that doesn’t look like something bought in a sexy shop. Rather, something bought in a jewellery.

 

“It wouldn’t happen to be some stupid, ridiculously expensive jewel covered with diamonds, would it?” he asks raising an eyebrow, trying to defuse the situation and relieve the tension.

 

“Open it” Victor urges, not looking away from him.

 

As he raises the lid, Yuri feels his stomach tingling with expectation mixed with a hint of anxiety.

Inside there’s an object made of shiny metal, definitely not a jewel.

It’s a 15-centimetre-long shaft, thin, slightly curved on one side and arched on the opposite, to which a ring with a frosted surface was welded, recreating a leopard-skin motif.

He picks it up with shaking hands. The metal is cold against his palm. He slightly knits his brows.

 

“Do you like it?” Victor asks cautiously, studying his facial expression. “I had it made just for you,” he whispers, touching lightly the delicately inlaid ring.

 

Yuri nods, uncertain. He has never seen anything like this before. He owns several plugs of different forms and shapes but he has nothing that resembles it. And the shaft is certainly too thin to grant him any pleasure.

 

“What is it for?” he finds himself asking, a little bit embarrassed, turning it over in his fingers. He doesn’t like to ask for explanation, it makes him feel like an ignorant brat, but he has no alternative.

 

Victor gets closer and reaches out to caress his cock, hot and quivering, making him sigh. He had almost forgotten he is already naked.

 

“It goes here,” he says softly, stroking the little hole at the tip of his erection with the index finger.

 

Yuri holds his breath and his belly contracts intensely at those words. His eyes dart on that thin shaft, which now seems definitely too thick, and his stomach flips at the thought of how filled he would feel once inside him.

The very idea makes him moan with desire.

 

“Would you like to try it?” Victor whispers, trying to meet his eyes. When he does, Yuri nods slowly and he smiles.

 

He moves to kneel between his legs, but Yuri stops him.

 

“No… like before,” he murmurs, voice deep and filled with lust. “Like we did in Russia.”

 

“It will be more complicated if I’m behind you. It would be better to do it like this for the first time,” he tries to explain, but Yuri looks at him with pleading eyes.

 

“Please…”

 

“As you wish then,” he concedes, moving behind his back. Yuri stands up to make room for him and then sits down on his lap, now way more tense than before.

Victor reaches out to grab his exposed erection that jerks at the mere touch.

 

He runs the thin shaft along the opening at the tip of his cock, covering it with the precum that is already starting to ooze.

Yuri lets out a shaky breath. He’s tense and nervous and at the same time excited and longing to try that new experience. He trusts Victor blindly and knows he would never ask him to do anything that goes beyond his limits.

 

“If it hurts, you have to tell me right away, okay?” His voice drips thoughtfulness, and Yuri nods frantically, impatient. His gaze slides down to that shiny object moving back and forth on the tip of his member. Maybe he should have heeded Victor’s advice, he can see _everything_ from that position. Way too clearly.

Victor shots him one last glance, then places the plug vertically on that tiny hole and slides it in, slowly, without forcing it at all.

Yuri watches it sink inside of him, breathless. It’s not painful, but it’s a feeling so intimate and intense that he’s shivering.

Victor watches him closely to pick up the tiniest hint of discomfort on his face, but he finds none.

When the plug comes to a stop, Victor pulls it slightly back, then forces it in again a bit deeper, and Yuri moans, thrusting his head back.

 

“Does it hurt?” he asks worriedly, stopping and withdrawing it a little.

 

“No… no, don’t pull it out,” he replies flying his eyes open, almost panicking. He doesn’t want that feeling to be over.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes… please.” Victor nods and starts delicately pushing again, until the plug disappears completely, fully seated in Yuri’s length.

The end bends perfectly against the tip of his erection, and the ring slides effortlessly around his glans, keeping the plug in place. Yuri rests his head on Victor’s shoulder, his eyes shut and his mouth curved in a perfect ‘O’. And Victor needs a huge amount of effort to restrain himself. That sight is almost enough to make him come, right there, in his trousers, without even touching himself.

 

“Everything alright?” he asks breathing heavily, looking at him in concern, but not without lust.

 

“Yes,” he mewls, overwhelmed by the sheer feeling of fullness that simple object is giving him. Each time his cock throbs, the plug touches a spot deep inside him, sending electric shocks throughout his whole body. It’s almost too much, and at the same time not enough.

 

“Victor…” Yuri calls him with pleading voice, squirming against him, pushing down on his groin. His opening is contracting rhythmically, needy.

 

“Not enough yet?” Victor asks, his voice deep and dark with desire. And Yuri moans turning his head, rubbing his nose along Victor’s neck, before giving it a lustful lick.

A strangled groan escapes Victor’s mouth. He reaches between them and hurriedly unbuckles his belt, slipping it off the loops with a sharp snap. He unbuttons his trousers and with a jerk frees his swollen, hard cock.

Yuri sighs, gasp when he feels him pressing between his cheeks and pushes down.

 

“Here?” Victor whispers into his ear, barely pushing into his opening, teasing him. “You want it here?”

 

Yuri moans and tries to wiggle out of his hold, he wants him so urgently that it’s driving him crazy.

 

“Tell me what you want, Yurio, tell me and it’ll be yours.”

 

“I want… you… I want you inside of me,” he whines, desperate.

 

Victor smiles and presses against his wet entrance, inwardly blessing the ability of omega males of getting wet, just like females. But instead of penetrating him right away, he pushes a fingertip against his opening. His finger easily slips in, and he moans for how tight, hot and soft Yuri is inside.

 

“No… not like that!” Yuri complains, his eyes glistening with tears though he still moves to take that finger deep inside him. “I want you… please…”

 

“If I don’t open you up it’ll hurt you, Yuri, it’s been a long while since the last time.”

 

“Yeah, I know that far too well!” he manages to talk back, sounding somewhat miffed.

 

In response, he feels Victor slide another finger inside of him, without any warning, taking his breath away. After that no other words can be heard, only the wet noises of Victor’s fingers moving rhythmically between his buttocks, driving him crazy, and the wet kisses Victor leaves on every inch of uncovered skin he’s able to reach.

And when Yuri feels he’s about to come, Victor finally pulls out his fingers and pushes his cock inside with one strong thrust of his hips, burying it ‘till the base and leaving him breathless. The sensation of having Victor inside of him once again is so intense that he could cum just because of it.

 

“Victor!” Yuri whimpers urgently, and he grabs the base of his erection and squeezes firmly, just enough to prevent his imminent orgasm.

 

“Better?” he asks softly when he calms down, and Yuri nods, feeling his cheeks warming up in shame, as he had to ask for his help.

Victor lets go of him, caresses his hair and tenderly kisses his cheek, then he gently accompanies him to relax against his chest while lying in turn the back against the pillows. He bends his knees, trying to find a comfortable position for both of them, and cradles him in a peaceful hug, just like they did countless times in his flat in St. Petersburg.

 

“Shhh… relax,” he whispers into his ear, sending hot shivers down his spine.

 

It’s almost impossible for him to focus enough to resist, as his body is shaken by pleasure spasms. But the feeling of fullness given by having Victor buried deep inside of him is so wonderful that he wants it to last as long as possible.

He shuts his eyes and takes a shaky breath, leaning his head back against Victor’s shoulder, his blonde hair tickling his neck.

Yuri would spend hours like this, whole days, held tightly in Victor’s arms, basking in his warmth that fills and wraps him in so an intimate and unique way.

Victor is motionless inside him, giving him time to calm down and adjust, and when his breathing is finally back to normal, he wraps his arms around Yuri’s waist in a soft hug.

Yuri half-opens his eyes as little as needed to glance distractedly at the TV. He wonders how much time has passed, and how much they still have available.

 

“Don’t worry, we have time,” Victor whispers behind him, as though reading his mind.

He cradles him gently in his arms, tracing sinuous patterns on his skin with his fingertips. He moves from time to time, drawing back only to push in again smoothly, while staring at the screen with a blank expression.

He tenderly caresses Yuri’s belly, time and time again, making him quiver and writhe weakly.

Yuri bites his lower lip. It’s hard to focus after such a long time, especially with Victor touching and caressing him, making him shiver. He feels like their first times together, when he could only resists for a handful of minutes, and everything came to an end way too quickly, leaving him unsatisfied and frustrated.

Victor, on the other hand, looks incredibly relaxed, arousing doubts in his mind. The thought that he may have done this same thing with Yuuri as well invades his mind, making him squirm.

 

“What’s wrong? Are you hurting?” he asks thoughtfully, reaching out to brush against the tip of his erection, making him moan.

 

“No… it’s not that,” he murmurs and Victor’s hand slides down to the point where they’re connected as he moves to pull out, but Yuri desperately grasps his thigh.

 

“No!” he exclaims, pushing himself down, preventing Victor from pulling out.

 

“So what’s the matter?” he asks, a confused frown on his face.

 

“I… was just wondering if… if you had done it with him too… with Katsudon… this,” he mumbles weakly, burying his face in Victor’s neck to hide his flushed cheeks.

 

“No. We’ve never done it like this” he promptly reassures him, only vaguely surprised by the question. “Yuuri doesn’t have the stamina nor the patience for that. Not yet, at least.”

 

Yuri nods and relaxes against him, happy that it’s still just a thing between them. But now a new thought finds his way into his mind. Yuuri’s face appears vehemently among his memories, despite his efforts at driving it away. His sincere smile, holding no malice. His brown eyes, a dull colour and yet so deep and warm, always hidden behind the thick lenses of his glasses. He suddenly recalls his warm hands on his skin. His fingers running through his hair.

His erection responds to his thoughts twitching visibly and getting a moan out of him.

Victor raises an eyebrow behind him and his lips crinkle up in a smile.

 

“What are you thinking about?” he inquires with mellow voice.

 

“Nothing…” Yuri replies quickly, blushing for having been caught in the act.

 

“You cannot lie. I can _see it_ …” he whispers, trailing his fingertip along Yuri’s swollen erection, making him shiver. “Tell me the truth. Were you thinking about him?”

 

Yuri groans while his body answers in his stead, twitching around Victor, clamping him in a boiling vice.

He feels Victor grinding his teeth behind his back. He seizes his hips forcefully and thrusts inside him once, unable to resist.

 

“I’ll take it as a yes,” he growls directly in his ear, and Yuri shudders.

 

“It’s not like that— “ he exclaims. He doesn’t want Victor to think about such a thing. It’s definitely not true, he’s not daydreaming about Yuuri. He could never be attracted to that lame piggy without even a hint of sex-appeal. His are much higher standards. But Yuuri’s face doesn’t want to leave his mind, and his opening doesn’t want to stop twitching rhythmically.

 

“Say, Yuri… have you thought about it often?” Victor breathes on his neck, before licking it.

 

“No… no, never!” he insists stubbornly, but he knows he will not be able to keep lying forever, his body is betraying him shamelessly. It’s hopeless.

 

“You’d like him to be here with us, huh, Yurio?” Victor asks, a hot whisper on his neck, using that stupid nickname that now, for some reason, is making him shiver.

 

“You’d like him to take care of you, just like I do?” he murmurs, caressing Yuri’s chest, belly, thighs, moving his hips under him, penetrating him with maddening slowness.

 

“Imagine…” he whispers, “his soft hands caressing you… his lips kissing you…” and Yuri can almost feel them, those warm, gentle hands on himself, so different from those touching him now, and those full lips, slightly chapped, on his own. He arches his back and moans. Victor grins mischievously behind him.

 

“Think… his mouth on you…” he adds, squeezing the tip of his cock in his fist, and Yuri winces at those words. The picture of Yuuri bent down between his thighs, looking unsure and yet greedy, staring up at him, his lips curled around his cock, is so vivid in his mind that it seems almost real. He leans forward, his legs stiff as he shakes with pleasure, and Victor is forced to follow, almost on his hands and knees.

Precum is already dripping from the tip of his cock, despite the plug still inside him. He shudders, panting for breath. Hadn’t it been for his new toy, he would have already come, he’s sure.

 

“Oi-oi, it seems like you won’t be able to last till the end of the film this evening,” Victor mocks him and he would like to retort with a sharp comment, because that’s entirely his fault. But he feels him moving inside him and popping out of his body, leaving him cold and empty and gasping. He turns to watch him in desperation, and Victor caresses his cheek.

 

“I’m here, don’t worry,” he murmurs. “You can’t lie on you belly, remember? Turn onto your back,” he orders gently, and Yuri obeys without arguing. He gets comfortable among the pillows spreading his thighs, showing himself to Victor shamelessly. And Victor groans, his instinct roaring to take Yuri forcefully again and again, until his body fails him.

 

“Jesus!” he gasps breathless, the base of his cock already swelling at that sight. “You’re gorgeous…”

 

“Shut up and fuck me!” he yells, his cheeks burning while he draws Victor to him, wrapping his legs around his hips. He bucks his pelvis upwards and their erections meet, making him almost scream as he grabs on to Victor tightly.

 

“Please…” he begs moving frantically, digging his nails into Victor’s back. “God… please!”

 

“I like it when you call me that,” Victor chuckles wickedly, and Yuri about to answer back, but he pushes into him with a single powerful thrust, plunging down to the hilt, taking his breath away. He doesn’t even give him time to recover before pounding into him.

He moves his hips, sliding in and out, hitting his prostate just right, every single time, driving him crazy.

There’s a fire burning in Yuri’s groin, and he his holding on to Victor for dear life, moaning and not caring that someone might hear them. And the more he moans and calls Victor’s name, the more Victor thrusts into him.

When he feels his toes curling, sign of the imminent orgasm, he pulls back to look down between their bodies.

 

“Pull it out!” he almost shouts, his eyes wide open. “Pull it out!” he begs, but Viktor ignores him. He speeds up, shifting just a bit to look at him, as he thrusts into him.

 

“Come, Yuri, come for me,” he orders, as their gazes lock, and the orgasm floods him with a crushing intensity. He arches his back under him, every fibre of his body stretching. He feels Victor’s eyes burning on his skin only a second before feeling Victor’s hands on his erection. Victor slips the ring off his glans, and the plug jerks upwards, pushed by hot come, and lands on Yuri’s belly. He lifts his head as little as needed to see the sticky fluid gush from the tip in large spurts that paint his chest white, his eyes filled with tears for that unexpectedly overwhelming pleasure.

He sobs, his head falling back again on the pillows, his hands and feet tingling, sparks of light dancing behind his half-closed eyelids, almost not noticing when Victor pulls back before coming onto his thighs and between his buttocks with a deep guttural moan.

 

When Victor collapses beside him, freeing him from his grasp, Yuri only manages to turn on his side, curling on himself and then stretching again, victim of the remaining spasms of his orgasm. And he doesn’t even have the strength to complain about the fact that Victor didn’t cum inside him, like he wanted.

 

“You okay?” he asks, collapsing down at his side, when he finally manages to catch his breath, and Yuri nods, still shaking.

 

“Did you like it?” Yuri looks at him and somehow manages a weak laugh.

 

“I wonder… why you waited so long before give me this,” he replies, and Victor lets out a chuckle as well, leaning his forehead against Yuri’s shoulder for a moment, before placing a kiss on it.

He stays like this for a few minutes, trying to will his heartbeat back to normal before sitting up with an evident effort.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to clean up. You’ve made a mess.”

 

“You made me make a mess,” Yuri retorts grinning, as he lies in an unseemly manner on the sheets, no trace of shame whatsoever on his face.

 

Victor shakes his head and gets up. He fetches a couple of tissues and then joins him again on the bed.

 

“Turn around.”

 

Yuri complies, laying down on his back again. He slightly spreads his legs and feels Victor’s come trickle down his buttocks. He shivers with pleasure.

Victor lets out a strangled moan and bends to kiss his inner thigh.

 

“God… you make me want to do it all over again,” he whines, burying his face in Yuri’s crotch, intoxicated with the intense scent of his body, now that it’s not masked by suppressants anymore. He rubs his nose on the sensitive skin just behind his testicles, making him sigh, amused.

“Maybe tomorrow. I don’t think I could bear another orgasm like this now,” he replies, astounded at his own words.

 

“Promise?” Victor asks.

 

And he laughs, playfully slapping his arm. “Hey, that’s my line!”

 

Victor smiles. He loves those moments, when Yuri is so relaxed and peaceful that for an instant he lowers that wall of arrogance and coldness he’s always surrounding himself with, letting his spontaneous and cheerful side out.

He gets up reluctantly, then wipes Yuri clean, careful not to rub too much on his oversensitive skin. Once he’s done, he grabs a pair of clean boxers from the wardrobe and makes him wear them.

Yuri lets Victor dress him, thinking about how much he cherishes those little attentions he always lavishes on him after sex. He wonders if that is what Yuuri was referring to when talking about Victor’s love for him. If it was just about sex, surely he wouldn’t be so attentive, right?

 

Victor meticulously wipes clean the new toy that gave Yuri so much pleasure, before putting it away in his velvet case, safely hidden in the wardrobe. After that, he turning off the TV, laces up his trousers and fixes his hair, ready to go.

 

“Going back to him?” Yuri asks, and his voice sounds way colder than he intended, and the wall his back in place again.

 

“Yes,” Victor replies turning to face him. He stares at him for a few moments. “You can come with me if you want, you know that.”

 

Yuri doesn’t answer, but he feels his cheeks burning. His mind brings up way too easily those images of Yuuri that have almost brought him over the edge.

 

“You have no reason to be ashamed, Yuri,” Victor whispers stroking his cheek, surprising him yet again with his ability to see right through him. “Come with me. Everything will be all right.”

 

He hesitates for a second before nodding. Victor smiles and offers him a hand to help him up, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he reaches out his arms, like a child.

 

“Carry me,” he demands with his lips curled in an adorable pout. Though it sounds like a plea more than an order.

 

“Are you kidding?” Victor asks, bewildered.

 

“No. I’m too tired to walk. And I don’t think my legs would support me anyway, if I were to stand.”

 

Victor bends over him, shaking his head with amusement. “Your wish is my command, princess.” He slips an arm behind his back and the other under his knees and scoops him up effortlessly. Yuri clings to him, leaning his head against Victor’s shoulder, and closes his eyes, deeply inhaling his scent, a smile lingering on his lips. He’s so satisfied he doesn’t even care Victor has just called him _princess_.

 

When they reach Yuuri’s bedroom, he’s already in bed, but still awake.

 

“Victor, you’re—” the words die away on his lips as he sees them, and surprise shows on his face.

 

Yuri feels suddenly awkward. Maybe he should have stayed in his room. He could at least have walked on his own legs.

As he’s desperately wishing for the floor to open up and swallow him, Yuuri moves the sheets aside and makes room for him without saying a word.

Yuri’s heart skips a beat, and he quickly looks away. Victor eases him down onto the mattress, then lies down beside him, so Yuri finds himself between them, overly aware of their closeness.

Yuuri’s tension, at his side, is palpable. In the dark, he can almost see him hesitate. He wonders whether he can smell sex on him. Whether it disgusts him. And the thought saddens and embarrasses him, instead of giving him the usual spiteful satisfaction. Probably Yuuri is regretting letting him into his bed. Surely he finds him repulsive.

Anxiety swells in his chest with every passing second, but Yuuri surprises him wrapping his arm around his waist. He’s awkward, and clumsy, holding his breath as though fearing Yuri’s reaction. But Yuri doesn’t draw back, doesn’t insult him, doesn’t push him away, and they fall asleep like that, closer than they’ve ever been.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally I can post this chapter! I couldn’t wait to have it translated, I’ve read it over and over again in Italian! I’ve loved writing it and I hope you will enjoy reading it! I think it’s pretty clear how much I love Yurio and him with Victor by now! But from now on things will start to change and the relationship between the three of them will really start to develop…   
> And let’s be honest, we all know how much Victor loves squandering him money, right? So why not having a nice inlaid silver sex toy custom made! XD Only the best for Yurio!  
> If my description wasn’t clear enough, here’s an explanatory picture! http://www.dhresource.com/0x0s/f2-albu-g3-M01-2A-03-rBVaHVYnRxKAFGldAACffHH1eeY703.jpg/b07-lengthen-urethral-plug-with-ring-urethra.jpg  
> It’s like this, only without the beads, and the ring has a leopard skin pattern on it. And don’t ask me why, but I’m quite obsessed with this stuff *hides away*  
> So now I really want o know what you think about Yurio’s new toy! :D
> 
> A super big thank you to Maple&Shrike who translated this for us, even if it’s summer now and they could have been sunbathing on a beach! Love you girls!


	12. Chapter 12

“Yuuri,” calls Victor, knocking on the door before opening it just enough to peek inside. “Can I talk to you?”

 

Yuuri turns his head to look at him in surprise, but nods. It’s not like Victor to be so composed, he usually barges into his room, not even remotely bothering to ask for permission. “Sure, come in.”

 

Yuuri’s spent all afternoon trying to find a song for his free programme, failing to find anything that might inspire him, or convey him the feelings he wants to express. Now, having flopped onto his bed in despair, he’s watching the videos from last year’s Grand Prix for the umptenth time, fully inclined to drool over Victor’s shots, though for some reason he’s found himself watching Yuri’s.

 

“What do you want to talk to me about?” he asks, hastily putting his phone away when Victor sits down next to him on his bed, that bed that hasn’t been _only_ his for weeks now.

 

“Do you remember when a couple of weeks ago I left you alone with Yuri to answer a phone call?” Victor asks, and Yuuri nods, he perfectly remembers it. It was a very intimate moment, hardly forgettable.

 

“When I got back, the door was ajar, and I heard you talking…” Victor goes on cautiously.

 

Yuuri immediately sits up, cheeks burning. “What did you hear?” he gasps, his stomach tightened in an uncomfortable knot. He didn’t say anything Victor didn’t know already, but the way he opened up to Yuri surely made him look pathetic and pitiful. Not to mention how desperate he must have sounded, talking about him.

 

“In fact, almost everything…” Victor answers, then lifts a hand and caresses Yuuri’s cheek tenderly. “I’m sorry you had to go through such terrible things, I had no idea your life was so hard,” he adds, his eyes full of love and compassion.

 

“Oh… Don’t… don’t worry about that, it’s in the past,” Yuuri replies, in an attempt to sound indifferent, as though those memories didn’t still make him suffer acutely, and be ashamed for what he is.

 

“Why have you never talked to me about it?” Victor asks, without breaking contact between them.

 

Yuuri shrugs. “There was no reason to. You’re here with me now… And this is all that matters,” he murmurs, unable to look at Victor in the eye, his cheeks flushed pink with the embarrassment of saying it out loud.

 

“But you talked about it with Yuri.”

 

“With him… it’s different,” he admits, surprising even himself. He hasn’t figured out what it is yet, but he feels that recently a bond was formed between him and that boy, a somewhat special connection. Now he feels he can open up to him, and trust him.

 

“Why? Because he’s an omega like you?”

 

Yuuri shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t know. But he seems different than before. Since he came back he’s changed, and it feels… like we have something in common now.”

 

“Me?” asks Victor with a small smile, maybe trying to ease the tension. Yuuri concedes him a chuckle.

 

“Surely you are one of the things we have in common,” he agrees lightly, but Victor is serious again.

 

“You know that I didn’t want this, all this situation. I would have never done it on purpose,” he says with grave voice, his brow furrowed.

 

“Yes, I know,” Yuuri nods in reply. Victor has told him dozens of times by now, it’s obviously of the utmost importance to him, and he doesn’t want any misunderstandings between them about it.

 

“I cannot change what I did, and I’d never ask Yuri to end the pregnancy…”

 

“Why, is this what you want?” Yuuri asks, dismayed at the mere idea. The thought that Victor could have taken that option into consideration hadn’t even crossed his mind.

 

“No! Not at all, I am happy about the baby, but at the same time I don’t want either of you to be hurt because of me. I know I am selfish, but I cannot leave him and I don’t want to let you go.” And as Victor says that, Yuuri can clearly see the internal struggle eating away at him.

 

“I know,” he replies, reaching out to brush Victor’s hand in a timid attempt to reassure him. “I cannot speak on Yurio’s behalf, but I truly meant what I said that night. I know you have feelings for him, I can see that. But it’s okay. He’s been part of your life much longer than I have, and he’s carrying your child, it’s right for you to stay by his side.”

 

“But I don’t want you to suffer the consequences of my mistake―”

 

“Don’t say that! Don’t ever say that!” Yuuri snaps, suddenly stiff. “A baby is never a mistake. Never.”

 

Victor looks at him, taken aback. He’d have never expected such a reaction from him. He didn’t think he could be so sensitive about the subject.

 

“Forgive me, you’re right,” he says quickly. “But I wonder whether Yuri feels the same about it,” he adds, his bowed head openly showing all his insecurity. “His life has always been about figure skating, and being the best. But this…”

 

“We’ll keep it hidden, nobody will find out,” Yuuri tries, even though he knows it’s not a feasible idea.

 

“It’s impossible, you know that. It’s not like hiding your omega identity, like you did. It’s way different. You cannot conceal it with some soap. You cannot wipe it away with suppressants. And when it comes out… it’ll be a miracle if he’ll still have so much as a career after that.”

 

“I’m sure he will,” Yuuri insists with the hint of a smile. “We’ll find a way. And even if people found out, he wouldn’t certainly be the first to go through something like this…” he adds, and then quickly looks away, biting his lip.

 

Victor knits his brows, that comment baffling him. “Wha―”

 

“Victor!” Yuri’s voice, coming from the corridor, makes them start, and Yuuri is overwhelmed with gratitude for his timing. This time, it was a close call.

 

Yuri breaks into the room without even knocking, graceful as ever, but stops on the threshold puzzled, looking them up and down.

 

“What were you doing?” he asks suspiciously, and Victor is about to answer, but Yuri immediately stops him lifting a hand in a dramatic fashion. “No. I don’t want to know.”

 

Victor shakes his head and relaxes, leaning back to rest on his elbows, the sheets rustling under him, and Yuri’s gaze slides down his lean body, lingering on his jeans folding over his crotch. “So, why are you here?” Victor brings him back to reality with a start.

 

“I want strawberries,” he declares folding his arms, his cheeks slightly flushed as he sets his eyes back on Victor’s face.

 

“Strawberries?”

 

“Yes, strawberries. You know those red fruits with black seeds and green tuft? Strawberries,” he spells it out as though talking to a very dense child.

 

“I know what strawberries are, but it’s nine in the evening, where am I supposed to buy them at this hour?”

 

“We’re in Japan, they’ve got those weird, tiny shops here, that are open 24/7. Go there,” Yuri replies promptly.

 

“They will never have fresh strawberries in a _conbini_. Right, Yuuri?” he asks hopeful, turning to Yuuri for support, who nods.

 

“But maybe the bigger one in the town centre…” Yuuri muses, gaining himself a murderous glare from Victor, and he knows he’s just clearly said the wrong thing, so he mouths _“sorry,”_ placing both palms together and bowing slightly.

 

“Ha! See? Come on, go!” Yuri urges him pointing at the door, like with a dog.

 

“Couldn’t you eat something else instead? I’m sure Hiroko has something in her pantry that you might like,” Victor tries, to no avail. The idea of walking down the dark and cold streets of Hasetsu, instead of staying there with them, warm and cosy, is dreadful. Besides, he wants to resume the conversation with Yuuri that was cut short. There are questions that need answering, and he feels that if he misses this occasion, he won’t get another.

But Yuri doesn’t seem inclined to give up.

 

“No, I want strawberries,” he keeps on. “You wouldn’t want the baby to be born with a huge, hideous birthmark on its face?” he goes on, hoping to play on his guilt.

 

“Oh my God, did you touch your face?!” Yuuri cries, suddenly leaning towards Yuri and making both him and Victor jump.

 

Yuri frowns, taken by surprise. “No… I don’t think so.”

 

“Don’t touch yourself! Anywhere!” he insists, and Victor turns to look at him.

 

“Oh, please, don’t tell me you believe this, too?” he whines.

 

“Of course I do! My grandma’s mother was born with a birthmark all over her head because one day her mother saw some people harvesting grapes while she was walking back home. You know, it’s not a very common fruit here in Japan, so she was really craving for some, but she didn’t dare ask. So, since she didn’t want the baby to get blemished, she kept her hand on her head all the way home. And the baby was born with a birthmark in the shape of a bunch of grapes on her head!” he recounts animatedly. ***

 

“And what about the hand?” Yuri asks, puzzled upon hearing that ridiculous story. He would’ve never thought that Yuuri could believe such nonsense, he’s only said it to get what he wants.

 

“Where you touch yourself, that’s where the baby’s going to have the birthmark. That’s why you must not touch yourself when you have cravings! Or in hidden places, if you can’t help it,” he says, then turns to look at Victor, who’s staring at him, gaping. “You must go get those strawberries, now!”

 

“You know that these are all superstitions, don’t you, Yuuri?” Victor points out in vain.

 

“You really want to tempt fate?” Yuuri asks, and Victor hesitates, before heaving a heavy sigh.

 

“Fine, I’ll go!” he gives in, at least he’s not going to hear any more anecdotes about people disfigured by birthmarks. “You want anything else, Yuri? Since I’m going out anyway…”

 

“Chocolate! Loads! And pickles! No, wait… that thing they eat here, yellow… this long…” He gesticulates, trying to make himself understood as best as he can.

 

“Daikon?” Yuuri chimes in.

 

“Yes, that! I want that, too!”

 

“You know, you could make an effort and learn some words in Japanese.” Victor suggestion is rewarded by a death glare.

 

“I don’t see why.”

 

“Maybe because you live in Japan?” Victor comments, raising an eyebrow.

 

“For now,” is Yuri’s sour reply. At that, Victor sighs, arguing is pointless.

 

“Fine.” He gets up with a melodramatic groan and approaches Yuri to kiss him on the mouth. “But I think I’m really spoiling you,” he murmurs, and Yuri sticks out his tongue in response. Victor smiles and wraps a hand around the back of Yuri’s neck, drawing him to himself to capture his lips in a passionate kiss. A strangled squeal of surprise escapes Yuri’s throat, who he is acutely aware of Yuuri’s presence in the room, his eyes on them. And oddly enough, it doesn’t unnerve him. On the contrary, it sends shivers down his spine.

When they part, Yuri’s short of breath, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are gleaming with desire.

 

“Behave while I’m away,” Victor whispers against his lips, kissing him one last time before pulling back.

 

Yuri watches him walk away, still dazed after that kiss so unexpected and intense, then he turns towards Yuuri, who is still scrutinising him.

 

“Make room for me,” he mutters, heading for the bed, his cheeks flushed. “I don’t want to be alone.”

 

Yuuri immediately moves aside, leaving him enough room to lie down. Being so close on that bed is almost second nature now, it doesn’t unsettle him so much anymore.

 

“You really believe that crap about birthmarks?” Yuri asks, after settling down at his side. His hands are carefully resting on the bed sheets, at a safe distance from any part of his body. It’s not like he believes those stories, but… you never know.

 

“Of course not!” is Yuuri’s amused reply, which causes Yuri to sharply turn his head. Could it be that he actually lied to Victor for him?

 

“Why did you come up with that story then?”

 

“I didn’t make it up, my grandma told me about it, it happened for real, that thing about the grapes and everything. Though I doubt my great-grandma’s birthmark was in any way caused by her mother touching her head,” he explains smoothly.

 

“Then why did you tell him like you really believed it?!” exclaims Yuri, now feeling rather silly. He makes his hands into fists and moves them upwards to his chest, his cheeks burning with shame for giving credit to his words, even just for a second.

 

“You wanted the strawberries, didn’t you?” Yuuri simply answers with a small smile, and Yuri’s blush gets deeper. He really cannot get used to those small gestures.

 

“What were you doing?” he asks after a long moment’s silence, trying to change the subject, spotting the computer open on the desk and Yuuri’s phone forgotten in a corner of the bedspread.

 

“Oh… I was trying to single out a song for the free, but since I couldn’t find anything, I gave up and settled for watching last year’s Grand Prix final. I wanted to get an idea of the competition in view of the Cup of China,” Yuuri replies, pointing at his phone.

 

“Oh, of course, tell that to somebody else,” he comments sarcastically.

 

“What do you mean?” Yuuri says, turning to face him.

 

“I bet you were drooling on Victor’s videos again”.

 

“That’s not true! Look!” He reaches out for his cellphone and then lies at his side, so close their faces almost brush against each other.

 

“What the hell are you doing, katsudon?” Yuri shouts, blushing vividly to that sudden movement.

 

“Uhm, I’m showing you the video I was watching?” he replies, surprised by such an exaggerated reaction.

 

“I can see perfectly even without you being so close!” he snaps, and Yuuri backs off apologising, but keeps the phone between them so that Yuri can watch it, then starts the video. Lucky for him, Michele Crispino is performing his short programme. It would have been too embarrassing if it had played the video of Yuri he was watching a minute earlier.

 

“See? It’s not him,” he points out, and Yuri grumbles something in Russian which he can’t understand, but that definitely sounds like a sarcastic retort. Yet he doesn’t draw back, so they watch the video together, commenting here and there on choreographies or technical details, until it’s Victor’s turn.

 

“Oh, that had really been a wondrous choreography,” Yuuri comments with a smile of admiration on his lips, thinking that if he confines himself to making technical remarks, Yuri won’t mock him.

 

“But that costume was hideous! Pink! _Pink_! I don’t know where he got that idea!” he surprises him instead, making him laugh.

 

“It wasn’t indeed one of his best costumes…” he agrees, amused.

 

“To say the least!” Yuri adds, getting closer to have a better look. Yuuri holds his breath as he feels Yuri leaning his head on his shoulder, almost afraid of scaring him away with his breathing, like a wild bird.

 

“HA! That prick, JJ!” Yuri exclaims instead, flaring up as the Canadian boy appears on screen, taking Victor’s place, evidently unaware of Yuuri’s inner struggle. “I hate him so much! He’s always so full of himself.”

 

“But he has reason to be, he’s really good!” Yuuri says, observing carefully the perfect jumps and the fluidity of his movements.

 

“He’s just a jerk! He thinks he’s a god, but he has never gone beyond the silver medal.”

 

“That’s because Victor won gold for 5 years in a row,” Yuuri specifies, and Yuri turns around to glare at him.

 

“You want to argue, fatty?!”

 

“No! Absolutely not!” he answers hastily, raising his free hand in surrender, he doesn’t want to trigger Yuri’s wrath, that, since he’s been expecting, manifests itself more violently than usual.

 

“Then I’m right!” Yuri bursts out, laying once more his head on Yuuri’s shoulder and curling up against him as he would do with Victor.

 

“Ok, you’re right,” Yuuri murmurs, yielding, trying to focus on the video again and ignore the light weight of his head on him and his soft hair tickling the neck, even though it’s virtually impossible.

 

Despite the fact that they sleep together every night, they have never been this close during the day and Yuri has never approached him so closely, willingly and, above all, without Victor’s presence while being awake.

He smiles without realising it and thinks absent-mindedly that Yuri really has a nice smell, sweet and fruity, almost child-like but at the same time manly and intense. Before then he had never paid attention to that, perhaps because Victor’s smell is always very predominant.

He moves slightly to find a more comfortable position. He bends his arm, which is starting to get numb, under Yuri’s head, almost shifting in slow motion, fearing he would move away. But Yuri doesn’t seem to be willing to move, and Yuuri relaxes again. He brings his hand high and feels Yuri’s hair tickle his palm. It feels like silk threads, thin and soft, and before even realising it, he finds himself stroking it, unable to resist.

 

“What are you doing?” Yuri immediately asks him and he starts, instantly blocking himself.

 

“I… was only… sorry,” he stutters, quickly removing his hand. “I didn’t think it bothered you.”

 

“I didn’t say it bothers me,” he mutters without looking at him, and his voice sounds strangely embarrassed while admitting it.

 

“Does it mean… that I can keep stroking your hair?” Yuuri asks uncertain, as if he is testing the waters, afraid of drowning by making the wrong move.

 

But Yuri surprises him yet again, grunting “Do as you wish.”

 

He smiles, stretching out his hand to stroke him, and Yuri feels his fingers sliding between his hair. Like the first time, he finds himself thinking about how different his touch is from Victor’s: more delicate, almost maternal, but at the same time warm and vaguely exciting.

Slowly, his eyelids lower, as he enjoys those attentions. He feels him play, rolling up strands of hair between his fingers and then letting them slide again, and again, making him lose track of time. When he seems to grow tired of that pastime, he moves down to his ear, caressing the outline before he takes the lobe between his fingers, making him shiver.

 

Yuri lets out a shaky breath, moving closer to him, and before even realising it, he’s pushing his tense groin against Yuuri’s thigh.

Yuuri inspires so suddenly it almost sounds like a rattle and the phone slips out of his hand, a second before Yuri snaps back, eyes wide open, like a wild animal surprised by a car's headlights in the dark.

“I…” he stutters, unable to think properly. Yuuri’s upset glance hurts more than he would have expected. It makes him feel dirty and wrong, as it happened to him many times in the past, when his first heats overwhelmed him without notice and Victor had not yet entered his life.

He turns the head on the other side, unable to maintain eye contact, and stands up quickly, his eyes burning and his throat clamped in a painful vice.

 

“Forget it!” he shouts rushing towards the door, but Yuuri stops him by grabbing his wrist.

 

“Wait!”

 

“Let me go!” Yuri tries to wriggle his arm out, but Yuuri’s grip doesn’t loosen, he doesn’t want to let him run away, not this time, not in that way, not without an explanation.

 

“You don’t have to run away, there’s no reason to be embarrassed!” he says, trying to ease the situation, to make him understand there’s nothing wrong in what he just did. “We’re both males, it’s… normal to have certain reactions…”

 

“You don’t understand!” he yells, yanking his arm in an effort to free himself, but he realises it’s useless. Yuuri’s vice is stronger that he had thought it would be.

 

“Then make me,” he asks, voice almost begging, that makes him feel even worse.

 

“No!”

 

“Is it because of me?” and as he asks, he fears the answer might be yes. That Yuri can despise him like many other people who met in the past did. And the mere thought makes his chest hurt.

 

“NO!”

 

“Then why?” he insists. He really wants to be able to understand him, he wants to breach his thick armour, once and for all, and understand what it is that scares him so much.

 

“You… let me go!”

 

“Is it because of what Yakov did to you?” Yuuri asks, and Yuri halts as he hears that name, but then anger comes back strong, in response to his shame.

 

“SHUT UP! You know nothing about me! Nothing!” he yells raising an arm as to hit him, but Yuuri stops him, grabbing the other wrist as well.

 

“Then explain… I want to understand, Yuri!” he exclaims, but it’s almost as if Yuri is not able to hear him.

“No! You can’t possibly understand! You don’t know what it feels like!” he yells. “You don’t know what it means to get aroused without knowing why, thinking that anyone would be okay… anyone, just to do it! You don’t know what it means to get this sick desire and feeling filthy and _wrong_ and…” his voice cracks and tears fill his eyes as memories of that dark past forcefully come back, allowing painful emotions to resurface, emotions he had hoped never to experience again.

 

Yuuri looks at him with compassionate eyes before pulling him into a hug. He perfectly knows what it feels like.

 

“You’re not wrong,” he whispers, holding him tightly in his arms.

 

“I am! Everybody thinks so, even my own grandpa! I’m disgusting and perverted…” he sobs, trying to wriggle out, but in vain.

 

“I’ve never thought so, never,” he says, his voice calm and firm.

 

“You will!”

 

“Why? Because you got aroused when I was stroking your hair? I would never think this makes you wrong, or… disgusting.”

 

He pulls away just to be able to look at him in the eye and presses a kiss on his forehead, caressing the cheeks with his thumbs as he holds Yuri’s face up. It’s a brief, yet intense and meaningful contact. It’s the first time happening, the first kiss ever occurring between them, and even though it’s only the pressure on his lips on the forehead, it makes them quiver.

 

It is the full demonstration that Yuuri is not afraid of his proximity and that doesn’t feel repugnance, not even after what happened. “I would never think of you like that, because I know how much it hurts,” he murmurs, moving aside slightly and Yuri feels new tears filling his eyes. The spot where he was kissed burns. Nobody, except Victor, has ever understood him. Nobody has ever made him feel accepted and normal after all. Not even his grandfather, with whom he had never had the chance to share his doubts and frustrations when, just at the age of 14, he had started to feel those inexplicable and fearful impulses.

 

He buries his face in Yuuri’s chest and clutches his T-shirt almost desperately, sobbing. The tension melts away, replaced by a delicate spark, a pale emotion he never thought he would have been able to feel towards Yuuri but to which he now clings tightly.

 

Yuuri gently caresses his back, comforting him with love. Seeing him crying like that is heart-breaking. He had his family to support him and help him in difficult times, but Yuri didn’t have anyone. Nobody who would take care of him, nobody who would explain what was happening to him, nobody who would reassure him that everything was normal, that nothing was wrong with him.

 

He feels his chest filling with compassion towards him, and the wish to protect him and make him feel safe and loved blooming inside of him, unexpected and unrestrainable.

He takes a step back and sits on the bed, pulling Yuri with him. He settles against the headboard and holds him close, cradling him. He wish he could just wipe out all his suffering and protect him for the whole world, from anything that could harm him. He would have never thought he would have been able to have such a feeling for him, for that snotty and insolent boy, who had been so cruel to him since the first time they met. But now it seems the most natural thing in the world to him.

 

And that’s how Victor finds them, almost an hour later, cradling in each other’s arms.

He would like to ask what happened, why Yuri’s eyes are so red and his cheeks are wet with tears, why he clings tightly to Yuuri, why they are hugging gently on the bed, but Yuuri’s look makes him realise this is not the time for questions.

 

He stretches out the hand toward him, looking for him, and Victor hasten to silently lie at their side. He drops the bag with the freshly imported strawberries, the top quality chocolate and the daikon of the best brand on the bed, and slips an arm behind his back to draw them to himself, cradling them in a gentle, warm hug until the moon sets and a new day begins.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***This absurd story is an anecdote that my grandmother told me, talking about her mother!! Here, they really believed that if you had a craving and then you touched yourself, the child ended up having a birthmark right there. And she told me she had this grape mark because as her mother was looking at the grape harvest she had a craving for grapes and then, in order not to alter the baby’s skin, she had to keep her hands on the head while returning home. Can you imagine that? XD And she also said that the mark used to turn violet in autumn and rosy during the rest of the year… that’s crazy!
> 
> I had to include it in the story! XD


	13. Chapter 13

In the following days, the atmosphere between the two ‘Yuris’ seems to undergo a deep change. After Yuri’s outburst, they have brought their intimacy on a whole new level, which is undiscovered country for them both.

Yuuri has developed a sort of protective instinct towards the younger boy—almost a maternal affection—that brings him to lavish small attentions and thoughtful gestures on him. Yuri, for his part, has stopped shying away from Yuuri’s touch and closeness, and Victor often finds himself observing them with a smile playing on his lips, thinking about how lucky he is, having both of them. It may be too soon to talk about _love_ , but something’s surely blossoming between them. Something he would’ve never hoped to see.

 

There’s only one flaw in that idyllic picture.

 

“Please, _please_ ,” Yuri starts off for the umpteenth time, as Victor is getting ready to go to Ice Castle. “I’ll go crazy if you leave me here one more day!”

 

“I told you already, time and time again. You cannot come with us,” Victor replies firmly, without even looking at him. It’s been going on for a week now, the same old tune every morning.

 

“Fuck it! I can’t bear to stay here and do nothing any longer!” Yuri bursts out, exasperation kicking in.

 

“Yurio, language,” Victor chides mildly.

 

“I swear to God, if you leave me here I’ll throw myself off a cliff!”

 

Victor heaves an exasperated sigh. “There are no cliffs here, Yurio.”

 

“The fucking bridge then!”

 

“Let him come, Victor,” Yuuri tries to convince him, giving him puppy eyes in an attempt to move him to pity. “Please.”

 

Victor sighs heavily. “You two are going to be my undoing, you know?” he whines, and Yuuri beams. They’ve won.

 

“If you get so much as an inch near the ice, you’re grounded in your room until the baby is born, do I make myself clear?” he threatens, before Yuri can get too hyped up.

 

“Deal!” Yuri replies with a grin, as he slips his shoes on and grabs his jacket, and then dashes outside.

 

“No running!”

 

“I KNOW!” he snarls back, and Victor sighs, hopeless, for the umpteenth time that morning. It’s almost like dealing with a child. A cheeky, ill-mannered, foul-mouthed child. But terribly adorable.

 

***

 

When they reach Ice Castle, Yuri feels a pang in his chest at the thought of not being able to skate. The times he’s been in a rink as a spectator instead of an athlete can be counted on the fingers of one hand. He drags himself to the bleachers and sits down on one of those uncomfortable-as-hell, blue plastic seats without backrest, and he already knows he’s going to have a dreadful backache by the time they go home.

As Victor and Yuuri step on the ice and start warming up, he feels miserable and lonely, watching them from afar. He’d like to walk down those stairs and join them. He’d like to know why Victor is laughing now, why Yuuri is glaring at him in mock annoyance. He’d like to skate with him and, why not, teach him how not to fall every bloody time he attempts a quad. But he can’t. He knows he can’t. He’s not going to endanger his baby’s life a second time.

He sighs heavily, pouting, and wonders if insisting so much to go with them has been a good idea after all.

 

“It’s a tad creepy, the way you look at them, you know?” Yuuko’s voice almost startles him. “You look like someone who’s just got away from a desert and is now looking at a glass of water,” she adds, sitting down beside him nonchalantly.

 

“That’s not true at all,” he snorts, shifting to another seat to avoid sitting next to her. He hugs his knees to his chest, instinctively trying to hide his belly, though he knows it’s pointless, since it would appear that by now anyone knows about is pregnancy.

 

“It is. But it’s okay. It must be hard for you, not being able to skate,” she says in a quiet voice, leaning forward, apparently looking at Victor and Yuuri, but her eyes are unfocussed, as though she’s deep in thought. He doesn’t reply, he wouldn’t know what to say. It’s the truth. It’s an agony for him, almost like being slowly suffocating. But he can’t admit to it, he doesn’t want to, and he’s not going to, not with her. No matter how much she plays gentle and friendly, it’s impossible for him to trust and open up to a complete stranger.

 

“You know, I hear that Minako is looking for someone to help her with her dance class,” Yuuko blurts out, bringing him back to reality. “Sure, it wouldn’t be as good as skating, but at least you’d have something to do.”

 

“As though I wanted to spend my time among a bunch of brats!” he barks, sliding further down into his seat and wondering why on earth she would suggest him something like that.

 

“Well, think about it. It might not be that bad, better than this for sure,” she says, hinting at the miserable state he’s in.

Yuri grits his teeth and doesn’t reply, and Yuuko loudly smacks her palms down on her thighs before standing up. “I must go, I’ve got work to do.”

 

“Ah, one last thing,” she adds, stopping right in front of the steps. “You may be carrying Victor’s child, but if you’ll try to take him away from Yuuri now that he’s finally happy, you’ll have to answer to me,” she says firmly, looking him right in the eye, then she beams and leaves with a cheerful _‘bye!’,_ as though she hadn’t just threatened him in a murderous voice.

 

“What’s wrong with her?” Yuri mutters under his breath, his chin resting on his chest, eyes fixed on the rink. Victor is explaining something to Yuuri, who is nodding with a focussed expression on his face. Like he’d ever had any chance of taking Victor away from him. He can clearly see it, the way Victor looks at him, the attentions he devotes to him. Yuri’s not a fool. And anyway he has no intention of doing so, staying with them, _both_ of them, is not that bad. He shakes his head, blushing up to his ears, unable to believe he’s just thought that.

He wills his trail of thought to go in a different direction. What was Yuuko talking about? Dance class. Yes, that seems to be a safer topic. He focusses on it, cutting everything else out of his mind. He’s supposed to teach kids to dance. Whining, annoying, incapable kids, who probably can’t tell a grand jeté from a grand échappé.

On the other hand, having something to keep himself busy with wouldn’t be bad at all. Better than staying there and watch Yuuri refine a choreography specially devised to seduce Victor.

He bites the inside of his cheek.

He’ll do it, he decides, a determined expression on his face. It doesn’t matter if it’s going to be humiliating, or boring, or whatever.

He grabs his bag and rushes down the bleachers.

 

“I’m going!” he yells, running by the rink, making Victor abruptly turn his head, and Yuuri fall for the umpteenth time.

 

“What? Where are you going?! Yurio! HEY!”

 

He sprints out of Ice Castle, ignoring Victor’s calls, taking the stairs two steps at a time, and darts out in the street. Only after a few metres he remembers that _“running is not good for the baby,”_ so he reluctantly slows his pace down. Getting to the ballet studio takes double the time this way, so when he finally arrives there, he’s doubly pissed off.

 

When he storms in, Minako doesn’t look particularly surprised to see him.

 

“So you’d like to teach the kids?” she asks, wasting no time on pleasantries.

 

Yuri stares at her, taken aback.

 

“Yuuko,” she simply answers, and Yuri gapes at her, confused.

 

“I didn’t even tell her I would do it,” he stammers, and Minako raises a patronising eyebrow.

 

“It was obvious you would,” she comments, then bluntly changes subject. “What makes you think you’re suited for it, anyway?”

 

“Maybe the fact that I started dancing as soon as I learnt to walk, and my teacher was the prima ballerina of all Russia?” he replies, straightening his back and puffing out his chest proudly, gushing confidence. “Plus, if I sit here one more day doing nothing, I’ll end up murdering someone,” he hisses, narrowing his eyes, as though daring here to reject him after he’s walked almost two kilometres at a snail’s pace, since he’s no longer allowed to run.

 

Minako folds her arms, amused and not at all intimidated. “Classes are every afternoon. You’ll teach three to five year olds from 2PM to 3PM, and five to seven year olds from 3PM to 4PM.”

 

“Wait, you mean you won’t be here with me?”

 

“Is there a point to you being here if I have to stay as well?” she asks, and Yuri mentally kicks himself, she’s quite right. But there’s a tiny obstacle.

 

“How the hell am I going to do this alone? I don’t speak a word of Japanese!”

 

“Well, I’m positive you’ll find a way,” she says, “and it might be a good opportunity for you to learn a few words, since it would appear you’re going to stay here for a while.”

 

Yuri shoots her a sideway glance, vaguely wondering whether she, too, is aware of his secret, which apparently isn’t much of a secret anymore.

 

“Come on, they’re waiting for you!”

 

“Now?!”

 

“Yes! You’re here, aren’t you? And I have a few errands to run, perfect timing!” and as she says so, she hustles him inside the ballet room.

 

The room is a lot smaller than those he’s used to, but it’s permeated with the same familiar smell of wood and rosin that brings back lots of memories.

Two barres run along a wall at different heights, a series of full-length mirrors sending back his image cover another one. Sunlight comes in from the large windows on his right, creating a nice and cosy atmosphere.

In a corner, a bunch of little girls wearing pink tutus is chattering away happily, casting glances in their direction.

 

“They’re the class from three to five. They’re learning the basics, so I don’t think you’ll have problems of any sort. It’s actually only recreational psychomotricity preparatory to technical bases,” explains Minako briskly, clearly keen to go away as soon as possible.

 

Yuri gawks at her, nonplussed. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

 

“Simply put, you make them play and have fun, while they learn coordination and balance.”

 

“You’re kidding.”

 

“No. Why should I? You never did that?” she asks him, slightly surprised, looking at him like he were a weird animal in a zoo.

 

“At six I was taking advanced ballet lessons and intensive programmes until my feet bled!” he says. “We don’t _play_ , in Russia,” he then hisses, giving her a cold stare worth of his reputation of _‘Ice Tiger of Russia.’_

 

After a long moment’s silence, Minako burst into laughter, leaving him speechless.

 

“Well, you’ll get to do it now! Come on! You’ll have fun!” she adds, nudging him towards them, giving him no time to answer back. And when Yuri turns around to object, she’s already vanished, and the girls are gathering around him.  


“Nii-chan,” one of the older ones calls him, tugging at his trousers to get his attention, before adding something unintelligible in Japanese.

Yuri stares down at her, at a loss, wondering how on earth he’s going to teach them something when he cannot even understand what they’re saying to him.

 

“The heck am I supposed to do now?!” he mutters in Russian, flustered. “Surely you little brats don’t speak English, do you?” he asks, getting only blank stares in reply.

 

“Fuck Yuuko! And fuck _me_! What the hell was I thinking?!” he complains in frustration.

 

The little girl calls him again, and he sighs.

 

“Fine, fine! Give me a second!”

 

He takes off his jacket and shoes, which he throws into a corner. He’s about to do the same with his hoodie, but then thinks better of it. The shirt he’s wearing underneath is snug enough that the slight curve of his belly, which is becoming more and more evident, is visible. He feels his cheeks go red and glances at the girls, wondering if they’ll notice it, if they’ll ask him questions, if they’ll sneer at him or they’ll be disgusted.

After all Yuuri has related to him about his past, he’s even warier of the reaction he could provoke from other people, there.

But those are only children, and he decides they’re probably too young to notice, and in a few months his baby bump will be huge and impossible to hide anyway. Surely he cannot dance like that: he’d be boiling hot within ten minutes. He unzips the hoodie, feeling oddly anxious, and slips out of the sleeves. He lets it fall to the ground together with his other clothes and turns around. None of the girl makes a comment, they don’t even seem to notice. He heaves a relieved sigh and pads to the centre of the room.

 

“Good… Now what?” he asks himself, putting his hands on his hips. He dawns on him that he had the chance to play with other children very few time, when he was a child himself, and now he has no idea where to start from to make them have fun.

 

“What do you usually do?” he asks, carefully articulating the words in English, but obviously none of them understands a thing. So he tries again, this time gesticulating in exasperation. “What do you do? _What?_ ” with no result. He moans frustrated, before suddenly remembering something. He grits his teeth. _“Nani?”_ he ventures, saying that words as though it was a curse. He hates speaking Japanese, and hates being aware of the fact that he’s learning a handful of words by continuously listening to the onsen customers and Yuuri’s parents.

 

One of the girls tilts her head to one side, as though she’s figured out, and he lights up. “Nani?” he tries again. “Nani… desuka?” *

The girls around him giggle, clearly finding him funny, and he blushes. How dare those snotty girls laugh at him?

But the older one seems to be miraculously understanding him, and is heading to a small stereo sitting in a corner, which Yuri hadn’t noticed. The unmistakable notes of a piano fill the room, and the girls start stirring and bouncing around like overexcited grasshoppers, under Yuri’s incredulous gaze.

 

“This is madness!” he exclaims. His own dancing lessons consisted in hours of hard, exhausting, never-ending exercises under the stern gaze of his teachers. Surely he never run round the gym like a headless chicken, which is what his new students are doing at the moment.

Surprisingly enough, though, after a few minutes’ frenzy, the girls line up in a corner, without being told to, and in turn they perform some exercises running diagonally across the room, one after the other.

They’re simple moves, rough hints at dance steps, but at least Yuri can now see a pattern in all that craziness.

 

“Okay… Okay, I got this!” he says clapping his hands, after studying them for a little while. He dusts his socks with some rosin he’s found in a corner to avoid slipping and breaking his neck, and joins the line.

He draws the attention to himself, then runs along the diagonal performing the simplest steps he can remember, except they’re clearly not as simple for the girls, who stare at him mouth agape, before starting to bounce excitedly, trying to follow him.

 

The first one launches into a passionate replica of his performance, but her long hair, which she’s wearing loose, get into her face, and within a few second she’s blundering about blindly.

 

“For the love of God!” he huffs, stopping her before she bangs into something. “Why aren’t you wearing your hair up? These are the fundamentals!”

 

The girl looks at him, puzzled, and Yuri sighs. “Wait here,” he orders, then heads to the shelves in the entrance. He rummages around until he finds a box with an old hairbrush, a few hair ties, a handful of hairpins, and a tangle of hairnets and decorations, probably remainders of past performances.

 

“Everyone, come here!” Yuri calls them, sitting in the centre of the room with his legs crossed. The girls quickly group round him, out of curiosity more than anything else. Yuri grabs the closest one and has her sit in front of him, then starts brushing her hair.

 

That’s how Yuuri and Victor find him, when they finally arrive to the ballet studio, after looking high and low for him in the whole town. Yuri’s expression is focussed, but sweet at the same time, as he is busy gathering a five-year-old girl’s hair into a tight and elegant chignon on her head.

 

The anger and concern that had been plaguing Victor until a few seconds ago fade away in an instant, and seeing Yuri doing something so simple, yet so tender, warms his heart. At his side, Yuuri smiles gently, leaning on him.

 

“Who would have thought that,” murmurs Yuuri, and Victor slightly tilts his head to look at him.

 

“What?” he asks curiously.

 

“That Yurio had such a soft side,” he replies smiling. Never in his wildest dreams has he imagined that Yuri could be so caring, but he’s glad he had the chance to see it, to discover it day by day. “He’s going to be a great mum,” he whispers, and at his side Victor nods, happy.

 

They watch him for a long while, as the girls try to imitate him, and he awkwardly attempts to reprimand them when they make a mistake, failing to keep a straight face, which is basically impossible with them. Eventually, when he gives up and class turns into a loud play session, they cannot but laugh as they enjoy the show.

 

“Yuuri,” he calls, his voice low in order not to disturb the lesson. He doesn’t turn his head, absorbed as he is in watching Yuri.

 

“Hmm?” is his only answer.

 

“About last night, that thing we were talking about before Yurio cut us off…” Victor starts, and Yuuri feels the blood freeze in his veins. His smile falters on his lips. He swallows with difficulty.

 

“About Yurio’s future?” he asks with choked voice, hopeful, but he has the feeling it’s not what he’s referring to. And, as expected:

 

“No, or rather, yes, that too, but you did say something about the fact that Yurio is not the first one to face such a situation,” he adds, and Yuuri’s stomach churns. He doesn’t reply and silence stretches between them.

 

“What did you mean?” Victor presses. “I don’t remember ever hearing of skaters getting pregnant… and the omegas in our field are very scarce,” he points out. Yuuri feels his palms starting to sweat from the tension. Fuck.

 

“Yuuri…”

 

“I… well—“

 

There’s a sharp noise that makes them turn, the glass doors at the entrance slam and two women cross the hall while talking cheerfully, one of them holding on her right side a rowdy child that shouldn’t be more than one year old, whereas the other one is showing off a big baby bump between the tails of her unbuttoned coat.

 

Yuuri lets out the lightest sigh of relief, as the two mothers come closer. They greet him with a slight courtesy gesture, which he quickly reciprocates, and then take a seat next to him, waiting for the lesson to end.

 

“Yuuri,” Victor calls him once again, but it’s obvious he missed the opportunity. As to underline it, just a few seconds later another mother joins them, and soon the hall is packed with noisy women and Yuuri makes sure not to move from the centre of the little crowd that surrounds him. He could very well exit and wait outside, or go off to the farthest corner of the room, or even slip into the men’s changing room, which, he knows, is always empty. But he doesn’t want to give Victor the chance to resume their conversation.

 

When the lesson ends and the girls start swarming outside the gym, Yuuri rushes to slip into the room, approaching Yuri apace.

Yuri is drying his sweat on his neck with a towel, a faint smile on his lips, but when he sees them reflected on the mirror he turns with a start.

 

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks abruptly, the smile gone from his face, replaced by his wary, indifferent signature expression, only vaguely embarrassed, as if he had just been caught doing something wrong.

 

“You ran away like that, we were worried,” Victor answers and Yuuri nods, at his side.

 

“We were looking for you,” Yuuri adds.

 

“Well… it wasn’t necessary,” he mutters, mentally preparing himself for the impending scolding. Yet, surprisingly enough, Victor keeps smiling and doesn’t seem to be intentioned to scold him for his behaviour. It is unusual.  


“So you’ve decided to help Minako with the lessons?” Yuuri asks, kneeling to pick up his sweatshirt, which hands to him.

 

“Yes…” he mumbles, still surprised by how calmly they are reacting to his ‘escape’.

 

“I’m happy, it will be a nice experience for you.”

 

He zips up his jacket without replying. He wouldn’t know what to say. He definitely can’t say that it has been the best lesson of his life, nor that he loves the girls, but not even that he has hated that strange and messy play session, either.

 

“I think we will come to see you again, you were really cute while jumping here and there with the little ones,” Victor mocks him playfully, and Yuri gives him a withering look.  
“Don’t make fun of him, Victor,” Yuuri scolds him mildly before taking Yuri’s hand and interlacing his fingers together, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.  
“Come on, Yuri. Let’s go home.”   
  
Yuri flips Victor off with a satisfied grin on his lips, sometimes having Yuuri on his side turns out to be useful. Victor shakes his head, more amused than bothered.

They go through the glass doors and exit on the street, the evening air is cool and they can smell the sea scent carried by the breeze.

 

“Come on, hop on!” Victor spurs him, taking the bike from the rack where he has left it, right out of the entrance, and he doesn’t need to hear it twice. After weeks of nothing but idleness, his body suffers the effects of that two-hour-long lesson. And that irks him deeply. He sits on the carrier with very little grace and waits for Victor to take his place on the saddle, but at that moment Victor’s cell phone starts ringing insistently. It’s a personalised ringtone, different from the default one of his iPhone, but that lately both Yuris have heard all too often.

 

Victor lets out an annoyed noise that almost seems like a growl coming from the back of the throat as he takes it out of the pocket. He has no need to check the screen to know who’s calling, but takes care in not showing it to them.

 

“Who’s the one that keeps calling you?” Yuri enquires, he’s getting quite bothered by those pestering calls at every hour of the day.

 

“Nobody important, you two go ahead, I’ll catch up with you,” Victor answers.

 

“If it’s not important then why aren’t you coming with us?” he insists.

 

“Yuri,” Victor scolds him harshly, making him understand he won’t answer questions on the topic and to stop asking.

 

“Are you sure? We could always wait for you… if you want,” Yuuri suggests, hesitant. Victor probably wants some privacy, that’s why he told them to just go ahead, but he doesn’t like the idea of leaving him behind. And he doesn’t like the idea of him not sharing secrets with them.

 

“I am, now go, I’ll catch up with you later.” the ringtone persists while Yuuri gets on the bike but doesn’t move yet.

 

“How are you going to come back?”

 

“I’ll come on foot.”

 

“It’s three kilometres from here, Victor…” he tries to insist, the ringtone finally ceasing, and Yuuri feels a little bit guilty, but not as much as he should be.

 

“No problem, just go, I’ll catch you up as soon as I can,” he replies, first bending forward on Yuri to leave a quick kiss on his lips and then on Yuuri’s. Yuuri blushes from top to toe, they’re in the middle of the street, in public, in Hasetsu, and Victor just kissed Yuri. He glances around to make sure nobody has seen them, his heart pounding in his chest. Luckily the street is half-deserted and no one seems to pay attention to them. His lips tingle as he lays his foot on the pedal, looking away.

 

“Very well… then see you later,” he stammers. Victor nods and Yuuri gives himself a push to start. Behind him, Yuri clings to the carrier, fully determined not to wrap his arms around Yuuri’s waist.

 

Victor watches them leave and then starts the call. It only takes one ring before a harsh voice echoes through the speaker. After so many months spent in Japan, the sound of his mother tongue feels almost foreign.

 

“You must stop calling me,” he hisses sharply, without even giving the person the chance to say a word.

 

“Vitya,” says the man on the other side of the phone.

 

“Don’t call me that, I’m not a child anymore, nor am I your toy, Yakov,” he growls through the handset. The answer is a weak laugh.

 

“Stop fooling around Vitya. You have to come back,” Yakov continues, as if he hasn’t even heard his complaints. “We have to solve things before it’s too late.”

 

Victor clenches his fists, he should have kept ignoring him, it would have been better. Better than that.

“There’s nothing to be solved.”

 

“Nothing, you say? Did you look at the news lately?!” His voice reveals his anger, Yakov was never good at keeping his emotions in check. “All of Russia is talking about it, the entire world even! I won’t be able to spike the rumors much longer! Do you know how much your stunt is costing me?”

 

“It’s not a stunt! Damn it Yakov! Yuri is expecting a child, my child!” he snaps loudly and a woman turns to stare at him before quickening her steps in the opposite direction.

 

“Yes, what a grand idea was that of making him pregnant, congratulations!” spits Yakov.

 

“It didn’t ask for it, Yakov, and you know it well! But it happened, deal with it!”

 

“You didn’t ask for it, you say? Is that really so?” There’s an insidious note in his voice now, beneath searing anger and hatred.

 

“The fuck are you insinuating?” Victor asks curtly, unable to follow the thread of Yakov’s ravings.

 

“Wasn’t it perhaps a move to knock him out? So that he wouldn’t have been a menace to your new little toy?” he insinuates.

 

“You’re crazy!”

 

“Crazy? I don’t think so!” Yakov shouts. “First you disappear, screwing up your career to train the worst ice skater of the senior category and then, coincidentally, just a few months later, I hear about Yuri being pregnant and that he will obviously leave the competitions. You tell me what I should think of it!” he barks, furious. He has spent so many sleepless nights considering every little possibility, every theory, every hypothesis that he ended up with a stomach ulcer for being too tense.

 

“I didn’t even know he was an omega! Christ, Yakov! And even if I had known that, I would have never done such a thing! Who do you think I am?” Victor shouts in reply, upset by the fact that his coach, the man who saw him grow up, could think so lowly of him.

 

“Then bring him back! We can still find a solution before it’s too late!”

 

“And what? Tell me! What should I do? Push him downstairs and hope he miscarries? Is this what you want?!” he growls, walking back and forth along the sidewalk, his heart angrily racing in his chest.

 

“It could be an idea,” is the chilling answer he receives through the speaker and Victor has the urge to hurl the phone against the wall in front of him. “But it’s too risky, if possible, I want him with all his bones intact, we’ll put on something,” he goes on as if it were nothing, as if he hadn’t just suggested to do such a thing. “We’ll say he had an accident, that he needs absolute rest. Nobody will talk, they’ve all been paid handsomely.”

“You’re totally insane,”Victor whispers, completely shocked.

 

“When the baby is born, he can give it up for adoption. Nobody will ever know anything, it will be as if nothing ever happened,” Yakov continues without even listening to him.

 

“It’s my child we’re talking about! My child!” he yells, it’s pure luck that they’re on the phone, otherwise he would have already hit him. “I’ll never give my child up!”

 

“You’re being unreasonable, Victor!” Yakov shouts and Victor can almost imagine his livid face and the jugular vein pulsing underneath the thin skin of his neck. “This will destroy his career, if word gets out, if the rumors flying around are confirmed, he won’t have a future anymore! He won’t ever set foot on the ice, if not for teaching in some drab ice rink in a filthy suburban town! Is this what you want for him?!” he bawls, stressing every word, and Victor hesitates.

 

“But what do you even care? The only thing that matters to you is going around and getting pregnant as many omegas as possible! What do you care, if his life will be miserable after all this? It doesn’t change anything for you, does it? All it takes for you is to see him all swollen and pregnant with your cum, isn’t that right?”

 

Victor remains silent, the awareness of those truthful words making his stomach squirm.

Maybe he didn’t ask for that pregnancy, maybe he didn’t want it, yet he knows, feels that a part of him, the most inner and instinctive part, was aware. He knew Yuri’s “foul periods” weren’t only the result of his teenage hormones. He knew that sweet scent he smelled on the bed sheets after consuming the umpteenth night of passion wasn’t just a cheap chemical fragrance bought in some boutique. He knew he wouldn’t have been able to penetrate Yuri in such a disarming way without him being an omega.

The truth is that he has never wanted to acknowledge it. He has never wanted to put the pieces together, just listen to his instinct. And now, no matter how hard he tries to deny it, he knows that that part of him wallows in seeing Yuri’s belly getting bigger and bigger by the day. His instinct rejoices in knowing the goal was achieved.

The guilt grips him, crushing him.

 

“You see, you’re exactly like all the other alphas, enslaved by your own instincts. You don’t care about him.”

 

“It’s not true,” Victor murmurs, but it’s too late, the thought is creeping in his head and now, he knows, there’s no way to keep it silent.

Yakov has won.

 

“Then prove it!” he exclaims with the same strength of a preaching televangelist. “If you’re not doing it to satisfy your own animal instincts, then bring him back! Do the right thing! He’s young, he’s only eighteen, if getting him pregnant is what you want, what both of you want, then you’ll have time in the future to do it, when the time comes. But not now, not when he has a bright career ahead. Don’t take this away from him, Victor!”

 

Victor presses his lips into a thin line, his throat tight. He knows Yakov’s right. He’s been trying to convince himself that everything would be alright, that they were doing the best thing, but it’s not alright. There’s no way to hide a pregnancy, and if this gets out, or rather, once this gets out, Yuri will lose everything. Theirs is a cruel world. It won’t be indulgent with him.

 

“We’ll face it together ,Vitya.” Yakov’s voice is now calmer, sweeter. “We’ll find a solution and it will be like nothing ever happened.”

 

 _Like nothing ever happened_. Those words sink in like boulders in his chest. He hears the noise of a slamming door in the background and some voices. Yakov swears in Russian.

 

“I have to go.” He clearly doesn’t want to end the call, but he has no choice, he’s needed elsewhere. “I’ll call you tomorrow to book the flight.”

 

Victor remains silent, his heart clamped in a painful vice.

 

“Vitya.”

 

“Ok, fine,” his voice breaks, he clears his throat and tries again, this time the answer sounds plainer. “Fine.”

 

“Good,” Yakov lets out a sigh of relief, maybe he won’t have to take the medicine for his sour stomach before going to bed that evening. “Talk to you tomorrow.”

 

“Talk to you tomorrow.”

 

“And, Vitya,”

 

“Yes?”

 

“You’re doing the right thing.”

 

Victor ends the call without replying. He stares at the phone for what seems like an infinite amount of time, his heart aching in his chest at the mere thought of what he has just agreed to do. He doesn’t want to give up his child. Just imagining Yuri giving up his child for adoption devastates him, but it must be done. For Yuri’s sake. Right?

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *to be read: Nandeska. Nani deska
> 
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> 
> I’m waiting for your death threats after writing such a thing and ending the chapter with a cliffhanger!
> 
> I’m sly, I know! But that’s also why you love me, right? Riiiiight? *sweats*
> 
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> 
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> 
> By the way, I want to hear all the insults against Yakov! XD
> 
> Poor man, in the anime he’s not such an arsehole, but I can’t help it! I love those unscrupulous characters who wouldn’t stop in front of nothing to pursue their goals. And after all I needed a bad guy to hate in this story, don’t you agree? I couldn’t let things go too well, amirite?!
> 
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> Having said that, let the public lynching begin! XD


	14. Chapter 14

“Victor’s not back yet,” Yuuri says, pulling aside the window’s curtain. Outside, the last traces of sunset are painting the landscape violet, and street lights are lighting up along the main street. They’ve managed to come back, get changed and take a relaxing bath in the onsen while waiting for him, but he’s still nowhere to be seen.

 

“Considering it was no social call, I don’t think he’ll be back any soon,” Yuri mutters, as he absentmindedly brushes his hair in front of the mirror, his yukata tightly tied around his waist. While the girls didn’t notice his round-ish belly, it doesn’t mean he isn’t fully aware of it. And not in a good way. Looking at himself in the mirror has been getting harder and harder in the last period. Seeing his body change is not easy for him. It’s never been, but now it’s happening so rapidly that his mind can hardly keep up with it, and struggles to remind him that he’s neither fat nor eating too much.

 

“What do you mean?” Yuri shrugs at the question.

 

“That now he’s probably drinking sake in some hole somewhere until he forgets his own name. Knowing him, he’ll come back in the wee hours, piss drunk, and he’ll fall asleep on the hall floor.”

 

“Really?” Yuuri says, getting away from the window, and Yuri shrugs.

 

“Did it never happen before I came?” he asks, a tad harsher than he wanted. If Victor never needed to resort to alcohol, it can only mean that he hasn’t had one single problem since he came to Japan, which kind of drives him up the wall, even though he knows it’s absurd, and that he should be glad of it instead. But the worry that Victor might cherish that place more than their own homeland plagues him every day, it has been ever since he came back.

 

“No… not that I recall,” Yuuri vaguely replies as he settles on the bed. “Or maybe I’m so used to seeing Minako drink that I didn’t notice if Victor did, too?” It sounds more like a question Yuuri is asking himself, and he’s actually trying to remember if he’s ever seen Victor drink beyond his limit, and the answer is: no.

 

Yuri throws the hairbrush onto the desk, walking away from the mirror. His hair falls back around his face, damp and wispy, shiny like silk threads kissed by the sun, and Yuuri finds himself admiring it, mesmerised. He lived in Detroit for five years, so he’s familiar with shades other than the flat black characterising ninety-nine percent of the population of Japan, yet he can’t help being fascinated by Yuri’s hair.

 

“What are you staring at?” Yuri’s voice makes him start, and he realises he’s been keeping his gaze on him for longer than is deemed polite.

 

“Nothing. I was just lost in thought,” he tries, hoping that Yuri won’t dig deep into it, but it’s not like him, and sure enough he quickly drops the subject.

 

“Whatever,” he says, heading to the door.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“Don’t worry, fatty, I’m not going anywhere,” he says sarcastically, before walking past the door, biting the inside of his cheeks. Until a few days ago, he would have told him to piss off, but now for some reason he can’t do that anymore. He shakes his head as he pensively scampers down the corridor leading to his room. When he gets there, he finds himself standing in front of the dresser cluttered with all his things, and he’s completely forgotten why he’s gone there in the first place.

 

“Fuck,” he mutters. He knows that if he went back to Yuuri’s room he’d remember what he wanted to get, but there’s no way he’s going to look like a scatterbrain, making his way backwards like an eighty-year-old man with Alzheimer.

He opens a drawer, hoping for his brain to have an epiphany, but no light goes on in his head as he surveys its messy content. He snaps it shut, then does the same with the second and the third. If he’s there, there must be a reason. There must be something he needs. In the fourth drawer there are T-shirts (most of them are too tight now,) and underwear (which is getting quite uncomfortable, too.) He’s about to close it in a huff, when something catches his eye. The glossy corner of a thick tome. He reaches for it without hesitation.

 

*

 

Yuuri jumps on the bed when something heavy falls onto his stomach, and he drops his phone, which hits him right in the nose.

 

“Ouch!” he whimpers, half for that and half for the blow to his stomach. He grabs his phone and throws it onto the bed sheets next to him, and looks down to see what hit him.

 

“Oh… The book Mum gave you.” He takes it, admiring the cover. The woman on it looks so serene and happy. He lifts his eyes on Yuri, who’s standing beside him, arms folded. “Why are you giving it to me?” he asks surprised, and Yuri shrugs, not looking at him. For some reason, upon seeing it, he hasn’t been able to resist the impulse to bring it back with him.

 

“Hiroko said you should read it to me,” he mutters, staring at an astonishingly interesting-looking small crack in the wall plaster.

 

“Oh…” It takes Yuuri a second to process his answer. “OH! Sure, come here,” he beams, and Yuri feels a little less awkward, only for a second, before Yuuri sits up and motions for him to join, patting the mattress beside him.

He’d like to just slip onto the bed sheet and settle at Yuuri’s side, he really would, yet something deep inside him is fiercely crying out for more. His gaze glides over Yuuri’s crossed legs, and he’s itching to nestle on his lap, like he would with Victor, when in the morning he used to read the newspaper, lying on his bed in his flat back in Russia. He loved those moments, and he can’t figure out why now he thinks he can experience that same intimacy with Yuuri.

But his yearning is so intense he cannot possibly stifle it.

 

“Is anything wrong?” Yuuri asks cautiously and flinches, blushing.

 

Yuri would like to say “no,” that everything’s alright, maybe insult him for being a pain in the arse all the time. But he can’t bring himself to.

 

“Yurio?” Yuuri urges him, slightly moving towards him, his voice dripping with concern.

 

“Can I…” He swallows with difficulty, his eyes firmly down on the covers. He wants to bite his tongue. But the words escape his lips before he can stop them. “Can I sit between your legs?” he whispers, his heart pounding in his chest, deafening. What the hell has got into him? He’s not Victor. Why is he behaving so foolishly? Why has he asked him such a thing? He must be out of his mind.

There’s a moment’s silence, in which Yuuri’s brain is struggling to digest the surprise. He’s never seen Yuri so docile before, nor has he ever heard him ask for permission to engage in physical contact with him. The butterflies in his stomach are flitting cheerfully as he nods quickly.

 

“Of course! Come!” he says, maybe a tad too enthusiastically, and his voice is a tad too high-pitched, but it looks like Yuri was just waiting for his cue to hurriedly climb onto the bed and crawl on Yuuri’s lap. It takes a few minutes to find the right position. It’s not easy and immediate like with Victor. Yuuri is just slightly taller than him, and his chest is not as broad and muscular as Victor’s. His torso is shorter, so Yuri cannot sit as he’d like, with his head resting on Yuuri’s shoulder, but Yuuri silently lets him shift until he eventually finds a comfortable position and relaxes.

Silence falls upon them for several long minutes, and neither of them apparently wants to be the first one to break it.

It’s Yuri who eventually bursts.

 

“So? Are you going to read or what?” he asks, some of his temper back, but his voice still sounds too soft and unsure, so unfamiliar to Yuuri’s ears.

 

“Oh! Yes! The book!” he says blushing. He reaches for it, trying to move as little as possible to avoid ruining all of Yuri’s work to find a perfect fit for them.

 

“Okay… let’s see…” He opens the cover and leafs through the first pages with a shaking hand, trying to divert his attention from the light weight of the boy’s body pressing against him, focussing on the words instead. He finds the index and skims through it, translating the titles of the various chapters. “They all seem interesting,” he comments distractedly.

 

“I don’t want to read that about delivery,” Yuri states firmly.

 

“Are you sure about it?”

 

“Oh yes!” he exclaims. “Seeing the pictures about the C-section was more than enough. I don’t want to open that chapter ever again!”

 

“But you’ll have to think about it sooner or later, the baby is going to come out from somewhere after all,” Yuuri points out, turning the page.

 

“Oh my God, shut up! I don’t want to think about it!” Yuri yells, slightly squirming on his lap, and Yuuri feels a pang in his chest at the idea that he might wriggle away.

 

“Fine, fine, no delivery!” he says quickly. “What about the part on the examinations recommended in the various weeks, then? Like amniocentesis and CVS? It would be useful, since you’ve only done two ultrasounds so far.”

 

“And what the fuck are those?” Yuri enquires suspiciously, they don’t seem like a pleasant thing, by the sound of it.

 

“They’re examinations that help you understand if everything’s alright, they take a cell sample from the amniotic fluid or the placenta to analyse it, to see if the baby is healthy or if it has genetic diseases,” Yuuri explains, looking for the corresponding chapter.

 

“And how the hell do they take amniotic fluid samples?”

 

“Oh, well, like that,” he replies, coming across the page showing a colour picture of an awfully long needle stuck in a woman’s belly all the way to the amniotic sac.

 

“OH JESUS!” Yuri opens his eyes wide in shock, feeling all cold just at the sight of it. “Isn’t there anything less macabre in this book?! It looks like a fucking compendium on mediaeval tortures!” he bursts, and Yuuri raises an eyebrow.

 

“A compendium?” he asks, amused.

 

“Yes. It’s like an essay, dumbass.”

 

“I know what it is, I’m just surprised you know, too,” he says, turning the page.

 

“Who do you think I am, fatty? I had five in every subject back at school, and I graduated with top marks!” Yuri retorts.

 

“Five?”

 

“Yes five, it’s the highest mark. Don’t tell me that here you have a nonsensical way even to give marks?!” he says, turning his head to glare at Yuuri, just to find himself a few centimetres away from his face. Terrible choice. It sets his cheeks on fire, and the tension building up under his belt is sending tiny electric shocks all over his body. He quickly lowers his eyes and turns around before doing something awfully stupid, his heart racing in his chest.

 

“We… uhm… have a centesimal system. One hundred is the top mark,” Yuuri stammers, a knot of mixed emotions sitting in his stomach at Yuri’s completely unexpected reaction.

 

“Interesting,” Yuri whispers flatly, as though he hasn’t even heard him, while trying to will his heart to slow down, now way too aware of the warmth coming from the body behind him.

 

“Yurio,” calls Yuuri with an enquiring voice, and he shudders, dreading that he’s about to ask him the meaning of his reaction, why he blushed, why his heart now feels like he’s trying to jump out of his chest. “You said you graduated, but you’ve just turned eighteen, and you’ve lived here in the last few months, so how’s it possible? Doesn’t school last as long in Russia?” Yuuri surprisingly asks instead.

 

“Of course not. I finished senior school last year, but I didn’t want to continue,” Yuri replies quietly. It’s odd, talking with him about such personal things, pieces of his life and his past that now, lying there, on that bed, with him, almost feel like memories of a faraway dream. Too ordinary to be real.

 

“How so?” Yuuri asks surprised, and he shrugs.

 

“No point in carrying on. I know what I want to do with my life, and I don’t need a degree for that. School took far too much time away from training,” he mutters, and he can’t but think that now his pregnancy is taking away an entire year, and, maybe, his whole future.

And Yuuri’s probably thinking the same, because he can feel him stiffen slightly against his back.

 

“I understand,” he whispers.

 

Silence falls again, tense, unbearable.

 

“Do you want to keep reading, or are we going to stay here to talk about our past and plait our hair like little girls?” bursts Yuri trying to shake the feeling that’s making his stomach churn.

 

“Oh… no, better to keep going,” Yuuri says, picking up on his uneasiness. “Hmm…. what about the part on foetal development?” he asks, hoping that the subject might remind Yuri that there’s a good reason why he’s missing training now.

 

“That’ll do,” he replies listlessly.

 

“Alright, let’s see.” Yuuri rereads the titles out loud, sliding his finger down the index, and Yuri can feel his chest rise and fall behind him at every word, at every breath, and Yuuri’s heartbeat against his back, slightly accelerated, but still reassuring. It’s odd, sitting so close to each other, alone and awake, but he can’t deny he appreciates it. And that deeply upsets him.

 

“Okay, so… You’re at week sixteen now, aren’t you?” Yuuri says absentmindedly, looking for the right page, and Yuri frowns, drawn away from his own thoughts.

 

“I don’t know… am I?”

 

“Well, I think so,” he replies.

 

“And how come that you know it, and I don’t?” Yuri asks, vaguely annoyed. Not so much because Yuuri knows, but because _he_ has no idea which stage of the pregnancy he’s at.

 

“Maybe because I’ve been keeping track of it,” Yuuri comments with nonchalance, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, leaving him dumbfounded. “There, week sixteen!” he says, opening the book nice and wide in front of them. The Kanji are obviously indecipherable for Yuri, but the picture in the centre needs no explanation.

 

“That’s how your baby looks like now,” Yuuri says quietly, and Yuri can perceive his smile from the softness in his voice, without even turning his head.

 

“Oh… It’s so different from the ultrasound,” he says, unable to look away, an odd feeling in his stomach. He tilts his head to one side. “It looks a bit ugly, though… look at its head,” he points out in a light voice, and Yuuri laughs, making him bounce against his chest.

 

“Yes, but I’m positive it’ll look better by the time it gets out.”

 

“I hope so!” he says decidedly. “It can’t turn out ugly, not with two parents like me and Victor!”

 

“Modest much?” Yuuri mildly teases, amused.

 

“I have no reason to be, fatty. I know I’m gorgeous,” and Yuri would like to really believe it, but at the moment he can hardly see himself as such, not with that squishy tummy, the dark circles under his eyes and his swollen ankles.

 

“You got a point there,” Yuuri replies simply, making him blush. Does he really find him beautiful? Or is he being sarcastic? He decides that he must have surely said it to make fun of him.

 

“How big is it?” he asks, for the sole purpose of diverting that conversation onto a safer ground. Something that doesn’t fill him with doubts and questions he doesn’t want to answer.

 

“Hm, let’s see… _By week sixteen, the foetus has undergone a substantial development,_ ” Yuuri starts reading, struggling to find the best translation for each word. “ _It measures about ten centimetres and weighs about seventy grammes._ ”

 

“Ten centimetres?” Yuri immediately cuts in. “So little? It’s like… this much!” he says, showing with his hands what is surely less than ten centimetres.

 

“It’s a bit more than that, I think,” Yuuri corrects him, “but yeah, it’s still rather small,” he agrees. “May I go on?”

 

Yuri nods, and he resumes his reading. “ _The small cavities of the ears are starting to form, along with fingerprints._ ”

 

“Wait! It’s got fingerprints?!” Yuri says, surprised.

 

“It looks like it does.”

 

“So you’re telling me that it’s this small but has fingerprints?” he insists, particularly overwhelmed by that one, apparently insignificant detail.

 

“Yes,” chuckles Yuuri.

 

“That’s crazy…”

 

“And it can even get the hiccups, did you know?” he adds in a careful voice, waiting to see his reaction at those news.

 

Yuri silently turns his head to stare at him. “Stop it. You’ve just come up with it!”

 

“No, I haven’t! It’s true!”

 

“I’m not buying it! You’ve definitely made it up! The hiccups! Come on!” he exclaims, sure that Yuuri is making fun of him now.

 

“I tell you I haven’t! It’s the truth!” he laughs. Yuri’s reactions are way too adorable. He looks like a child who’s just been told that it’s mums who put the money under the pillow, and not the Tooth Fairy.

 

“Where’s it written, then?!” Yuri demands impulsively, as though he were able to figure whether Yuuri is lying or not by reading the answer on that book peppered with incomprehensible characters. Yuuri could very well point at any line in the text, and it would be exactly the same for him.

 

“It’s not written, but—”

 

“HA! See! You’re just fucking with me!” he says, surprised that Yuuri has so readily admitted to not having read it in the book.

 

He feels him shake his head behind him, with the same amused resignation he sports when Victor is being childish.

 

“Think what you like, but I’m not fucking with you,” Yuuri says, slightly hesitating on those last words. “Can I go on?”

 

“Yes,” Yuri says dryly, well aware now of his very unfortunate word choice in that moment, in that position, with his heart in turmoil and his body shaken by tiny shivers at every movement Yuuri makes.

 

“ _... At this stage, it is possible to clearly spot the vertebral column, the bones of the legs, arms and feet, the intestine, and it is possible to measure the nuchal translucency, the cerebellum and the stomach. Finally, its features are more human. Its muscles are developing and move often._ ” Yuuri finishes the paragraph, glad that he’s managed to get to the end without being interrupted.

 

“I don’t feel it move often,” Yuri whispers unsure, now completely focussed on that. “I don’t feel it move at all.” Is it a warning sign? Maybe something’s wrong with the baby. Concern ties his stomach in a knot, as he considers that possibility.

 

“Here it says that the first movements are so feeble that they can be mistaken for gas moving through the intestines,” Yuuri reads carefully.

 

“Ewww,” Yuri comments disgusted at those words.

 

“But…” Yuuri continues, an amused smile on his lips, “... you can try and feel it better by lying on your back with your hands on your belly.”

 

“Really?” Yuri asks, turning again to look at him.

 

“Yes,” he smiles, their noses almost touching as he speaks. “You want to try?”

 

“Fuck yeah!” Yuri promptly yells, and he laughs.

 

“Okay, lie down then,” he urges him to move, and Yuri feels a surge of annoyance at the idea of relinquishing his body’s comforting warmth. But curiosity gets the better of him, so he forces himself to shift position, but before lying down at his side, he stops for a second. “What if I don’t feel it?” he asks anxiously. “What if I don’t feel anything?”

 

“Then we’ll try again tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and the day after that,” Yuuri reassures him, easing him down, slightly forcing him when he resists.

 

“Okay, shirt up.”

 

Yuri worries at his lower lip and looks away as Yuuri lifts his tank top, revealing his belly. From where he is, it doesn’t look so big, but when Yuuri takes his hands and puts them on it, feeling it so round and swollen is a completely unfamiliar sensation, and not at all pleasant.

 

“Now relax, and try to focus on what you’re feeling,” Yuuri guides him, sitting cross-legged beside him, without touching him.

 

Yuri does as he’s told, closes his eyes, his eyebrows furrowing in the effort to concentrate. But as the minutes tick by, he perceives no movement whatsoever beneath his fingers.

 

“I feel nothing,” he comments looking up to him, worry washing over him again with a vengeance.

 

“Maybe it’s sleeping,” tries Yuuri.

 

“Maybe there’s something wrong with it,” he mutters, unable to stop himself.

 

“Nonsense! Nothing’s wrong with it, the doctor would’ve told you otherwise.”

 

“What do you know… Maybe it’s dead.”

 

“YURI!” he cries, upset by his words, unaware that Yuri’s just externalising the concern gnawing at him in that moment. “Wait, I have an idea.” He jumps off the bed, almost breaking his neck when his foot gets caught in the tangled sheets.

 

“The hell are you doing, Katsudon?!”

 

“You stay there, I’ll be back in a jiffy!” Yuuri says, pointing his finger at him before walking past the door, leaving him alone, lying on the bed with his hands on his belly and a baffled expression on his face.

 

When he comes back, he is holding a big glass, full of what appears to be water, just more opaque and vaguely cloudy.

 

“What’s that thing?” Yuri asks, becoming immediately defensive, drawing himself up on the elbows.

 

“Water and sugar… a lot of sugar. Maybe it’s more sugar than water,” he admits looking at the glass with knitted eyebrows before handing it over to Yuri.

 

“And what should I do with it?”

 

“Drink it, of course.”

 

“And why should I?” Yuri rolls the glass in his fingers, closely observing the opalescent solution inside. He’s not going to drink that thing.

 

“It should wake the baby up, the sugar has a stirring effect, and therefore it should be able to give it a nice injection of energy. Come on,” Yuuri urges, nodding in the direction of the glass.

 

“Sounds like bullshit to me. Like the one of the hiccups.”

 

“It’s nothing like that, they give it out in hospitals, too, to make ultrasound scans if the baby isn’t not looking good or they’re not able to see what they need,” he explains. “And anyway the hiccup thing is no bullshit either, so drink up!”

 

Yuri raises his eyebrow so much it’s almost touching the hairline. He doesn’t want to know why he knows all these things. He just doesn’t want to.

 

“Can’t I eat chocolate instead?”

 

“DRINK!”

 

“Okay, okay! Jeez!” He gulps the entire content down in one go. The taste isn’t so awful. But it’s water and sugar, after all, and it’s so sweet his teeth ache and leaves his tongue furred. “Disgusting.”

 

“The important thing is that it works, right?

 

Yuri gives him a sideways glance, then falls back against the pillows, resuming the “how-to-feel-your-baby” position.

 

“When is it supposed to work?”

 

“It shouldn’t take long. I prepared it well concentrated on purpose,” Yuuri answers, taking place at Yuri’s side.

 

“Why didn’t you just give me sugar?” he asks to while away the time. At that moment, silence would be heart-rending, unbearable.

 

“I don’t know. They give you this at the hospital, I thought it would be the best option.”

 

“Mmmh… Okay,” he mumbles in reply and silence befalls once again, overbearing. “Were you with that girl… Yuuko… when she was pregnant? I mean, not _together_ together, you get what I mean, right?” It’s not that he really wants to know, but anything will do instead of waiting while listening to his heartbeat thumping in his ears.

 

“Yeah, I get it,” Yuuri nods, “and yes, I was at her side throughout all her pregnancy.” He smiles at the memory. “It wasn’t easy, you know, since she had triplets. She had to do lots of examinations and be constantly monitored. She had to spend the last months in bed. In the end, she had become hysteric,” he laughs, amused, recalling Yuuko’s fits and her attempts at escaping from the room she was confined in. Eventually, they had moved the bed in the living room, so she had spent the last month tormenting and lording it over anyone who entered inside the house.

 

“Is that why you are so knowledgeable about pregnancy and why you knew your way around the hospital?!” he exclaims, connecting the dots. It must be definitely because of that. Everything makes sense now.

 

“Oh… yes,” Yuuri smiles, “I spent so much time with her in those corridors. Reading books, consulting websites and…”

 

Yuri starts and the last part of the sentence gets inevitably lost.

 

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri asks, agitated, leaning over.

 

“I …” he begins, eyes open wide, a concentrated and at the same time astonished expression on his face.

 

“Have you felt it?”

 

“I think so,” he murmurs.

 

“Really?” Yuuri says excitedly, getting closer as if he could be able to perceive those movements by just staying at his side.

 

“Yeah, I think… Oh God, yes! Again!” Yuri looks up at him, searching for his eyes, a bright smile blooming on his lips, and he can’t but reciprocate the gesture, feeling his chest overflowing with excitement. Yuri laughs when the baby stirs right under his hand, and he feels his heart melting at the sight. “It’s moving! Gosh, it’s moving a lot! Feel it!”

 

Without notice, he grabs Yuuri’s wrist and puts his hand on his belly. Yuuri holds his breath, he would have never thought Yuri would allow him to touch him, to feel the baby shifting, to share something so intimate. He presses the palm against his skin, it’s warm and smooth, soft under his touch, yet still. Some seconds pass, nothing happens and the excitement is replaced by bitter disappointment.

 

“He won’t move for me,” he whispers, his lips stretched in a sad smile, as he withdraws his hand.

 

Yuri looks at him, shocked and feels an unpleasant pang in his chest in seeing sadness in his eyes.

 

“Bullshit!” he snaps with his usual discretion, grabbing Yuuri’s hand for the second time and pressing it forcefully against the side of his belly. “Here. Do you feel it?” he asks, determined eyes staring into Yuuri’s.

 

“Yurio, there’s no need to…” but the words die in his throat when he feels a slight movement, almost imperceptible, under his palm.

 

“You’ve felt it, right?” he smiles satisfied, and Yuuri nods slowly, mouth agape for the surprise.

 

Yuri presses a little bit more and the baby moves again, this time with more strength.

 

“Oh God,” Yuuri murmurs, his eyes brimming with tears, he can do nothing to prevent it.

 

“I know!” he says excitedly. “Your weird method worked!”

 

Yuuri chuckles. “I told you it works,” he mumbles and a tear rolls down his cheek.

 

“Are you crying, katsudon?” Yuri asks, surprised, even _he_ isn’t crying, and he would have the excuse of his crazy hormones to melt away in a puddle of emotions.

 

“Yes! I’m an emotional person, okay?” he replies without embarrassment or regret, and for once Yuri doesn’t retort. Seeing Yuuri react so fills him up with strange, unexpected happiness.

 

They stay silently close for what seems to be an infinite amount of time, chuckling when the baby kicks harder than before and pouting when it remains still for more than a few second.   
The sudden noise of the door handle surprises them both, making them start. They have cut themselves off from reality, so Yuuri almost screams when Victor’s figure appears on the doorway, without notice, a discharge of adrenaline running down his spine.

 

“Oh God, Victor! You gave me a heart attack!” he yells, and would like to bring a hand to his chest, but he has no intention of moving them from Yuri’s belly because of such a futile reason.

 

“What are you doing?” Victor asks frowning, his eyes misty. And suddenly Yuuri is aware of the strong scent of sake surrounding him and the hesitation in his steps.

 

“Were you out drinking?”

 

“Yes…” he answers, his voice slurred. He puts his coat on a chair, trying to hide how much the world is spinning around him, his jaw tense. It hasn’t been a pleasant evening and drowning his sorrows in alcohol has only made it worse.

 

“Is it because of that phone call?” enquires Yuuri cautiously. He doesn’t want to poke his nose into Victor’s business, but he doesn’t like his current state. He believes he has never seen the Russian so upset since the day of Yuri’s accident, when he spent a whole sleepless week before deciding to take a flight to Moscow.

 

“Yes,” he repeats, his back still towards them. “We have to talk…” he adds, turning around. But alcohol clouds his thoughts, so he gets immediately distracted by Yuri’s exposed belly and Yuuri’s hands on it. “What are you doing?” he asks again, blinking slowly. And Yuri parts his lips, also slowly, or maybe it’s just his imagination.

 

“The baby. It’s moving,” Yuri answers, lacking the enthusiasm with which he had shouted the first time. Now the atmosphere in the room has changed completely, as if a bad omen had followed Victor there.

 

But for Victor, those words are like a cold shower.

 

“What?” he asks, reeling backwards, as his heart skips a beat.

 

“The baby! While you were out drowning your sorrows in alcohol, we felt it moving.” There’s a strong accusatory tinge in Yuri’s voice. He’s never judged Victor for his inclination to easily drink too much, they are Russians after all, vodka runs through their veins as much as blood. Yet now he’s unable to hold back. Victor missed something fundamental, something he should have shared with him and that won’t feel the same anymore, nothing like what he has experienced with Yuuri.

 

Victor reels, suddenly there’s no more trace of alcohol in his body. Every sense is amplified and alert, as adrenaline kicks in and his heartbeat speeds up.

 

“The baby?” he whispers and Yuuri smiles gently, trying to ease the evident tension between them.

 

“Yes. Do you want to feel it?”

 

He hesitates. Yakov’s words echo in his mind. He grits his teeth, tightening his jaw, and Yuuri fears the answer will be ‘no’. That he doesn’t want to feel it moving.

However he nods slowly and comes closer. He bends, and Yuuri shifts his hand to make room for Victor’s. He casts a glance at Yuri, almost as to ask for permission, and he nods curtly in response.

 

Victor takes a shaky breath, presses his hand against the stretched skin and waits. Nothing happens for a while and he’s starting to think they are just pulling his leg. Or that he’s dreaming, after all he has drunk so much. But a second later, he feels it. Like a wave beneath the skin, something he had never perceived before, and he immediately knows what it is.

He falls on his knees beside the bed and Yuri can’t suppress the tiny smile blooming on his lips as he watches Victor’s reaction. It’s nice to see the great Victor Nikiforov, playboy, god of ice skating, always so self-confident, remaining speechless in front of something as tiny and simple as that.

 

“Our baby,” Victor murmurs, the eyes fixed on his belly bum. “My child.”

 

“And it even has fingerprints!” Yuri says loudly, attracting his attention.

 

“What?”

 

“Fingerprints!” he repeats, raising his hand to clarify the concept. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes… unbelievable,” Victor concentrates on the belly bum once again, and wonders how he could have ever thought, even for a second, of taking into account the idea of giving that creature up for adoption.

 

“What did you want to talk about?” Yuuri asks softly, caressing Yuri’s belly bum with his thumb. He doesn’t really care about it right now, but Victor sounded so serious about it, so it must be something important.

 

“About nothing. Nothing at all,” he replies firmly, leaning in to wrap his arms around Yuri’s belly, as if he were hugging the unborn baby. He presses his cheek against the warm skin for a second, whispering a barely audible ‘forgive me’ before kissing it lovingly, an action that makes Yuri blush from top to toe.

 

“Hey! I think you’ve drunk way too much!” Yuri snaps, trying to ignore his racing heart and that warm, overwhelming emotion filling his chest, giving him hope, the illusion that Victor could really feel something for him, that he could really love him.

 

“No… I’m just happy,” he answers against his belly. “So happy.”

 

“Well, happy or not, you reek of alcohol and smoke! Go take a shower!” Yuri complains, attempting to push him away.

“I don’t wanna—!” he groans, the head starting to spin once again, due to the waning effect of the adrenaline.

 

“What are you, a child?! Move your ass!”

 

Yuuri laughs. There it is again, the cheeky boy he knows so well and is learning to love. The one who isn’t afraid of saying what he thinks and faces everything with his head held high.

 

“Come on Victor, it’s very late! Go have a shower, wash your teeth…”

 

“’Cause you fucking need it!” Yuri adds.

 

“…and come to bed. We’ll be waiting for you,” Yuuri smiles, sliding down on the mattress, at Yuri’s side, who immediately snuggles close to him, more to make Victor jealous than anything.

 

“Yeah, and if you don’t wash yourself, you’ll sleep on the floor!”

 

“What?!” Victor’s voice comes out as a piercing shriek, and Yuuri fears it could wake up the entire onsen. “Have I been demoted? Now I’m the one who has to sleep on the floor?!”

 

“Shh!” Yuuri commands, trying to suppress his laughter as best as he can. “You still have time to claim back your place on the bed.”

 

“Maybe,” Yuri corrects him, pointing at Victor with his index as a warning.

 

“So hurry up and go wash yourself!”

 

“Fine! You’re really devious together, you know?” The two exchange a look and blush. Hearing Victor talking about them in plural, as if they were one, feels strange yet unexpectedly pleasant.

 

“Yes, we know. And we’ll be the end of you! We’re aware of that, too,” Yuri anticipates him before he can add the last part, a sentence that lately has become his favourite.

 

Victor closes his mouth, which had been opened to reply, and leaves the room, dejected. An hour later, when he comes back with his hair still wet and the scent of his soap on his skin, both his partners are already fast asleep. He silently slides underneath the blankets, and Yuri shifts slightly, pushing back against him, fitting his pelvis against his, and then sighing in contentment.

Victor wraps his arm around his waist, the open hand resting on his belly bum, hoping to feel the baby move again, but in that position it’s almost impossible, and as expected, he can’t feel anything.

 

But he remembers perfectly that incredible sensation. Yakov may be right. He might have lied to himself, deluding himself about not knowing Yuri was an omega and that could have become pregnant when they did it during his heats. He might just be like the other alphas, he’ll be happy and satisfied in seeing his partner round and pregnant because of him. And yes, it will be hard from now on, it will be a constant fight for their future. But he’s not ready to give up that spark of life, that promise of joy, of love and family who is growing inside Yuri day after day. And he knows, from the bottom of his heart, that both Yuris feel the same too.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final notes from the translators:   
> First of all, they want to point out that they’ve been able to translate this before the 30 (which is AMAZING I would add) as requested by one of you!   
> Second, they want to apologize for being a bit slow in the translation, but ya know, life happens and they do their best!  
> Third, they hope the translation is good enough and fluid, especially considered that they are in two translating this, so there may be changes of style or something… 
> 
> This said, I want to thank you all for following my story and leaving reviews at every chapter! I hope you will enjoy this one and forgive Victor for having even thought to give the baby in adoption. He would have never done it, honestly!


	15. Chapter 15

The following month passes in the blink of an eye. Now that Yuri is busy with the ballet lessons, his mood has definitely got better. Also, the most troublesome symptoms of the first trimester of pregnancy are starting to ease: nausea has almost ceased, as well as the dizziness and the mood swings, making everyone’s life somewhat easier.

 

On the other hand, his belly is getting larger just as fast, and he’s been struggling to fit in his clothes for days now. His T-shirts are too short, forcing him to borrow Viktor’s, and his jeans are so tight it takes him a good ten minutes to button them up. But, in spite of it, he doesn’t want to give in and admit it’s about time he replaces them.

 

“As much as I love seeing you go around wearing my clothes…” Victor starts yet on another morning, wrapping his arms around Yuri’s waist and kissing his neck, “...sooner or later you’ll have to admit defeat and go shopping,” he whispers in his ear, caressing his belly tenderly. But Yuri wriggles free of his hug, quickly shying away from him, just as any other time Victor has tried to touch him in that last period. From that fateful night when they felt their baby move for the first time, Yuri hasn’t tried again. And without the aid of water and sugar, his baby is always quite lethargic and not keen to manifest itself. But neither Victor nor Yuuri have ever insisted or put pressure on him, even though the former has tried in every way to touch him, to no avail.

 

“If by shopping you mean go buying some hideous premaman clothes that could fit a pregnant whale, the answer is no! Over my dead body!” Yuri huffs, shooting a fleeting glance at the mirror.

 

In films, when girls wear their lover’s shirt after a night of passion, they always look beautiful and terribly sexy. That’s a load of bullshit. When _he_ is wearing one of Victor’s largest T-shirts, he looks like a helpless wretch, anything but attractive. And he fails to grasp how Victor can find him desirable, looking like that.

He hastily averts his eyes, unable to bear the sight of his own reflexion.

 

“What are you planning to do when not even mine will fit you anymore?” Victor asks, trying to keep a neutral tone and avoid showing how much his continuous refusals are hurting him. It’s been over a month since the last time they’ve really been together, and it’s starting to worry him.

 

“It’s not going to happen. Your clothes are huge.”

 

“It is, you perfectly know that,” he says.

 

“Then I’ll be wearing Katsudon’s! Surely they’ll fit me even when I’m in my ninth month,” Yuri barks, and Yuuri turns to look at him in surprise.

 

“You would wear my clothes?” he asks, so astonished that Yuri would so much as take that idea in consideration, that he doesn’t even notice the blatant insult behind his words.

 

“No. Not even dead!” Yuri says dryly, blushing, well aware of how intimate that would be. And he’s surely not ready for it, no matter how gentle and caring Yuuri is towards him, or how relaxed and almost happy he feels when they’re together. He would never do such a thing.

 

“Then we must go shopping,” insists Victor, on the brink of exasperation. “It will be fun, you’ll see.”

 

“Yeah, just like a root canal without anaesthesia,” he comments, harshly tugging his T-shirt down in an attempt to hide his embarrassment, and at the same time to make himself presentable, failing miserably in both.

 

Victor shakes his head. “Where can we go, Yuuri?”

 

“Well, there aren’t many premaman shops for omegas here… but we can get to Fukuoka by train in an hour, and we’ll surely find something there,” he suggests, zipping up his sweatshirt. “If we leave now, we may be back in time for dinner.”

 

“But you would have to skip a whole day of training,” Victor points out thoughtfully. “The Cup of China is just around the corner, I’m not sure it would be a good idea.”

 

“Exactly! Katsudon has to train and I have classes this afternoon, so nothing, such a shame!”

 

“It’s not a problem if I skip one day, Victor, I can always make up for it tomorrow,” Yuuri insists, ignoring his words. He’s fully aware of Yuri’s uneasiness in that last few weeks, and he doesn’t want that situation to persist because of him.

 

“Hmm… Maybe you’re right.”

 

“Hey! Don’t ignore me! I said I have classes!” Yuri yells, but neither of them seems to be paying him the slightest attention.

 

“Fine. Can you call Minako and tell her?” asks Victor, and Yuuri nods under Yuri’s dismayed look.

 

“Sure, don’t worry.”

 

“Excellent!” Victor smiles, clapping his hands in excitement. “We’re going shopping!”

 

***

 

An hour and ten thousand complaints later, they finally reach Fukuoka’s city centre, and they find themselves wandering around the shopping area, looking at the shop windows. But since they are not familiar with the place, finding what they’re looking for is almost impossible, and they’re eventually forced to ask for directions.

Yuuri approaches a young lady who’s strolling down the street, pushing a sky blue pram, and asks her with a friendly smile where they should head to find a premaman shop. The woman scrutinises them for a long moment, and shots Yuri a glare laden with such disgust that it takes his breath away. He feels a lump in his throat, and all his insecurities increase a hundredfold in a split second, and he’d like to just run away and hide in his room for the rest of his pregnancy.

The woman looks away and points them the direction, adding a few words in dry Japanese, before hastily walking away.

 

“I want to go back,” Yuri whines softly, burying his hands into the pockets of his hoodie to try and hide his belly as best as he can. He never felt like that in Russia, while in Japan, those like him are despised, and it hurts him.

 

“Let’s take a look before going home,” Victor suggests, his voice gentle and understanding, resting a hand on Yuri’s back and mentally cursing that horrible woman. “If there’s nothing you like we’ll go home, I promise.”

 

Yuri huffs and moves away, walking with his head down, and Victor feels his stomach drop. And he wonders, for the umpteenth time, whether he should have accepted Yakov’s suggestion. Whether Yuri isn’t so happy about that pregnancy after all, in spite of what he apparently looks like.

After that night, he’s blocked Yakov’s number on his phone, cutting off his calls at the root. He knows that if he picked up another call, now that he’s so full of doubt, he would shamefully give in again. And he doesn’t want to. Not again. Not after feeling his child move inside Yuri. He grits his teeth. He is so selfish.

 

When they eventually reach the shop, they realise it’s larger than they expected, in spite of it being located in a side street, half-hidden and impossible to find, unless its position is already known. The window displays four mannequins with a nice, round baby bump, two of them wearing men’s clothes and the other two women’s.

Yuri feels anxiety washing over him. He looks away and bites the inside of his cheeks. He doesn’t want to go in, but Victor gently pushes him as Yuuri keeps the door open, so he has no choice.

Inside, the shop is rather bright, and even though the walls are covered in merchandise, the atmosphere is warm and pleasant.

A shopping assistant, a man in his thirties with long, black hair styled in a messy plait, welcomes them with a hearty smile. He talks to them in Japanese, and Yuuri answers for them. They speak for a short while, then the man addresses Yuri with a wide smile on his lips, and says “omedetō gozaimasu!”, a word that Yuri has learnt to recognise as “congratulations!”, or something like that.

He blushes and averts his eyes.

 

“He said—” Yuuri starts.

 

“I know what he said,” Yuri mutters, cutting him off dryly, before adding an awkward “arigatō”, which still makes Yuuri beam in delight. That’s the first time he hears Yuri make an effort to use a Japanese word other than insults towards him, or food names, and for some reason it warms his heart.

 

The assistant professionally passes over Yuri’s embarrassment, probably long used to dealing with boys like him, omegas struggling to accept themselves and live their pregnancy positively, and kindly motions for Yuri to follow him. Yuri heads to the fitting room at a funereal pace, as though he were walking the plank. He can feel the assistant’s eyes fixed on him, and despite his kindness, he’d like to turn around and yell at him to stop staring, that he isn’t a freak, but he bites back those words and says nothing. The man points a cubicle at him, then disappears into the maze of shelves, returning shortly after with some T-shirts and a few pairs of trousers.

 

“I… don’t really want to try them on,” Yuri tries for the umpteenth time when he notices the cut of the T-shirts, looking at Victor with desperate eyes.

 

“Come on, that’s what we’re here for,” Victor encourages him, knowing there’s no other choice. Yuri sighs and drags himself inside the cubicle. He draws the curtain and slowly sheds his clothes. The full-length mirror on the wall seems huge, and it’s almost impossible not to look at it, but he tries really hard nonetheless.

He always had a perfect body, and now he cannot come to terms with the fact that it’s not perfect anymore, that it’s changing so grotesquely in his eyes.

He dons a pair of jeans with an ugly but terribly comfortable elastic waistband, and a long T-shirt that covers everything it’s supposed to, and fits him just perfectly. He even likes the pattern on the front and the colour.

 

“Fuck,” he mutters through gritted teeth. Those clothes fit him so well that he’s going to have a hard time finding an excuse not to buy them.

 

“Are you done?” Victor calls from beyond the curtain, and Yuri’s eyes dart instinctively to the mirror, as though expecting to see him behind him in the reflexion. His stomach lurches, as his gaze inevitably falls down onto his swollen belly, even more evident because of the tight T-shirt. His eyes prickle with tears, and there’s a painful lump in his throat.

 

“So?” presses Victor a second before opening the curtain, catching him in the act of staring at himself, eyes brimming with tears.

 

“Oh my God… What’s wrong?!” He rushes into the cubicle, at his side, placing his hands onto his shoulders in concern.

Yuri doesn’t answer and tries to draw back, but it’s impossible in that confined space, so he’d like to yell at him to go away, to let him alone, but he can’t do that, either.

 

Yuuri’s head peeks out from behind Victor’s shoulder, a cheerful smile playing on his lips. “Is everything alright?” he asks curious, before seeing Yuri’s reflexion in the mirror.

 

“Yurio!” he says worriedly, squeezing into the tiny cubicle with them, and resting a hand on his back in apprehension. “What’s going on? Are you not feeling well?”

 

“No!”

 

“Is it about the clothes?” Victor enquires. “You don’t like them?”

 

“NO! It’s not that!” Yuri snaps, on the verge of tears. He wishes they’d never gone to that place. He wishes he’d stayed at home, alone, away from everyone, from them. And he wishes he weren’t so emotional, because not bursting into tears is bloody difficult when they’re both caressing him, trying to comfort him.

 

“Then what’s the issue?” Yuuri asks in a soft, concerned voice, rubbing his back in circular movements, trying to make him feel better but getting the opposite result.

These tender gestures dissolve the knot in his chest, unleashing all the emotions he’s kept hidden until now.

 

“I’m hideous!” he spits, as the first tear falls down on his cheek, burning, under the surprised look of the other two.

 

“Oh, Yurio…”

 

“It’s not true,” Victor tries to comfort him, completely taken aback by those words.

 

“Yes, I am! Look at me!” he cries. “I’m fat and hideous!”

 

“You’re not fat, Yurio, you’re pregnant. And you’re beautiful,” Yuuri reassures him with a warm smile, but he looks away, trying to wipe away the tears with his sleeve, as a sob escapes his lips.

 

“That’s not true! I’m repulsive!” he bawls trying to pull back, but Victor doesn’t let go of him. Yuri feels Victor’s hand lift his T-shirt, exposing his belly, and his breath hitches.

 

“What are you doing?!” he yells, panic taking over, suffocating. He’s overreacting, he knows that, but he cannot help it. His hormones are probably getting the best of him again.

 

“Look,” says Victor sweetly, and he shivers, he doesn’t want see, doesn’t want to look at himself. But resisting a direct order given by him is too hard.

 

“NO!”

 

“Yuri, look,” Victor insists, this time more firmly, He takes Yuri’s hand and gently guides it onto his stomach. “Our baby’s here,” he whispers, and Yuri gives in, shifting his gaze to the mirror. Victor is smiling at their reflexion, showing all his love, his hands resting on Yuri’s swollen belly. “And he’s growing inside of you. How can you think this makes you ugly?” he says sweetly. “This is a gift, and you are beautiful.”

 

Another sob escapes Yuri’s lips as he caresses his own belly with his thumb, and the baby moves, stirring inside him, as though confirming Victor’s words reminding Yuri of its presence. And he lets out a choked sob. He’s spent weeks worrying about his looks, instead of focussing on the most important thing, that life that’s growing inside him. He curses himself, wondering how he could have been so stupid.

 

“I’m sorry…” he whispers, maybe to Victor, or maybe to that creature he’s ignored for so long, then turns his head to nuzzle Victor’s neck, looking for his forgiveness, for his love.

 

“It’s alright. Are you feeling better now?”

 

He nods, sniffing. At his side, Yuuri hands him a tissue, a gentle smile on his lips. Yuri blows his nose and wipes his eyes dry, suddenly feeling awkward now that the tension has gone.

 

“Do you want to try on something else, or would you rather go home?” asks Victor earnestly, not wanting to force him again, and already feeling guilty for pushing him to this point, but on the other hand feeling glad he did so, because now he knows what has been troubling him so much.

 

“I want to try something else.”

 

“Are you sure? We can come back some other time if you’re not feeling like it,” Yuuri chimes in, protective as usual.

 

“No, it’s okay. Besides, I don’t want to have to wear your tasteless clothes,” he replies, giving Yuuri a shy smile, which he promptly reciprocates, relieved.

 

“Fine, we’re going to try and find something for you then,” Victor offers.

 

“No, not you!” Yuri yells immediately, his usual temper back.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because your taste sucks!”

 

“That’s absolutely untrue!” Victor replies, mock dismay on his face as he indulges him in that little game, glad to see that Yuri is being himself again.

 

Yuri arches an eyebrow, folding his arms. “Are we doing this? You wouldn’t find anything decent even if you had it under your nose!”

 

Victor narrows his eyes. “Challenge accepted!” he says, before striding out of the cubicle.

 

“You shouldn’t have done that, now he’s going to have you try on the whole shop, you know that, don’t you?” Yuuri asks amused, and Yuri sighs.

 

“I do. But at least he’ll leave me alone after that. And who cares anyway, it’s on him!” he says, making Yuuri burst into laugh.

 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks then, reaching to caress his cheek in a gesture that’s both sweet and intimate at the same time. Yuri blushes and nods without looking at him, but doesn’t draw back. On the contrary, he leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed, and Yuuri tenderly rubs his thumb against his cheekbone, enjoying that small moment all for themselves. Then Victor comes back with a pink T-shirt.

 

“I’m not wearing _that_!” Yuri stops him before he can even suggest it to him, quickly moving away from Yuuri.

 

“But it’s so pretty! Come on!”

 

“I said no! Not even dead!”

 

“At least try it on!” Victor insists in a whiny voice, making Yuuri chuckle.

 

“NO!”

 

“This one then!” he tries, showing him a long shirt that looks remarkably like an empire waist dress complete with lace hem.

 

“Are you dumb or what?! This is even worse than the other one!” Yuri growls.

 

“It would surely suit you!”

 

“Can’t you see it’s a woman's dress?!” he exclaims baffled, seriously starting to doubt Victor’s sanity.

 

“That’s not true, this is an omegas’ shop, so these are all omegas’ clothes. Aren’t they, Yuuri?” Victor asks turning towards him and meeting his eyes, looking for support.

 

“In fact, they also have women’s clothes. Such as that,” he replies, pointing at the dress Victor is holding, trying to stifle a laugh. “The men’s are that way.”

 

“See?! I told you your taste sucks!” barks Yuri.

 

“But it’s not true! I always dress so classy! Don’t I, Yuuri?!”

 

“Don’t turn to him for help! He thinks your taste is abysmal, too!” Yuri snarls before Yuuri can say anything.  


“WHAT?!” Victor yells, and Yuri would like to snap a picture of him right in that moment, to capture his shocked expression, and he turns around almost in slow motion to face Yuuri.

 

“I’ve never said that!” Yuuri quickly states, pulling back, for a second concerned about his safety.

 

“Liar! You said his _Stay Close To Me_ costume was atrocious!”

 

Victor’s expression gets, if possible, even more shocked, his eyes wide open and his mouth agape, and Yuuri fears he’s going to fall into pieces, like that time he noticed his receding hairline.

 

“Those… weren’t my exact words…” he stammers, raising his hands in submission. “Stop putting words into my mouth, Yurio!” he then says, but Yuri has already disappeared inside the cubicle to try on another one of the outfits selected by the assistant, who has now wisely retreated.

 

“How could you do that to me, Yuuri?!” whines Victor, clutching at his shirt in a melodramatic fashion, falling on his knees at his feet.

 

“I didn’t do anything!”

 

“You’ve shattered my heart, you know that??” he goes on undeterred, perfect in his rendition of the ill-treated diva, and Yuuri looks around, sweating and dearly hoping that nobody’s looking at them in that moment.

 

“Hey! Losers!” Yuri suddenly calls them, making them spin around towards the cubicle. “How do I look?” he asks without meeting their eyes, his cheeks flushed as he shows a charcoal grey T-shirt, with _“I love my bump”_ printed in white cursive and a little red heart next to it.

 

There’s a moment’s silence before Yuuri and Victor speak.

 

“Amazing!” they answer in unison, without the slightest hesitation, a warm smile blooming on both their faces.

 

***

 

Later that evening, after finally getting back home loaded with shopping bags and a full premaman collection, Yuri joins his two partners in Yuuri’s room. It’s become routine at this point, after dinner and a hot bath in the onsen, he dons his yukata and hauls himself right to their room to spend the night with them, in that bed too small, to narrow for three people, but awfully cosy and warm.

 

“Ahhh… My back is killing me,” he whines dramatically as soon as he enters the room, stretching with a moan.

 

Victor lifts his eyes on him, looking away from the phone in his hands, but it’s Yuuri who speaks first.

 

“I can give you a massage if you like,” he offers with a smile, his voice not faltering in the least, surprising them both. In spite of them getting a lot closer in the last period, and of Victor’s continual attempts to push them into each other’s arms, Yuuri had never volunteered to do such a thing, to touch him so openly.

Even when they felt the baby move, it was Yuri who’d taken his hand and led it on his belly, still him who’d asked to sit between Yuuri’s legs shortly before that.

Yuri blushes, he doesn’t want to feel his hands on him, not like that, not in that moment, not after his touch has started eliciting strange sensations in him, sensations he cannot understand and doesn’t want to feel at all. Not for him.

But the idea of a relaxing massage is so tempting that he just nods, head down, before even realising.

Yuuri smiles, happy and at the same time surprised that he’s accepted instead of telling him to go to hell and asking Victor instead, as he expected from him, as it would have been logical.

 

“Lie down, I’ll fetch the oil,” he encourages him, feeling vaguely anxious as he finishes placing some clothes in the wardrobe before opening a drawer to look for the massage balm. But Yuri’s voice promptly scolds him.

 

“And how the hell am I supposed to do that? I cannot lie on my belly!”

 

“Oh… Right, I hadn’t thought about that,” he answers, mentally scolding himself for forgetting such a basic thing.

 

“To hell with that!” Yuri snaps, cursing his bulky belly, resigned to not getting a massage for the rest of the pregnancy. Especially now that he needs it more than ever.

 

Yuuri looks around frenetically, searching for a solution, he doesn’t want to waste such an opportunity now that he has the chance. He doesn’t even know why he wants to do it, but he feels that it’s something important, and he doesn’t want to miss it.

Luckily, Victor comes to his aid pronto.

 

“Why don’t you place yourself like this: cross your legs and lean against the headboard,” he says, moving the pillows to the side to make room for Yuri.

 

“It’s not like lying down though,” he complains, crossing his arms to his chest, pouting.

 

“But it’s still better than nothing, isn’t it? Or do you prefer no massage at all?”

 

Yuri glares at him, but silently sits down, compliant, with just a hint of reluctance. That position is definitely less comfortable than what Victor wants him to believe, but he hopes it will still be worth the while.

 

“Thanks,” Yuuri murmurs, and Victor smiles at him, bending over for a kiss before going back to what he was doing.

Yuuri sits behind him, keeping his legs wide apart at his sides to be close, but not enough to touch him. The last thing he wants is to ruin the moment by pressing his groin against Yuri’s bottom by accident. It would certainly be enough to unleash a reaction worthy of the Incredible Hulk and make Yuri stay away from him for the rest of his days.

 

“So, off with this…” he says, wrapping his arms around Yuri’s waist to untie the obi that keeps in place the green yukata they always wear after taking a bath. He then takes it off, undressing him from the waist up. Yuri would like to scream that he could very well do it by himself, that he doesn’t need somebody to undress him like a child. But it’s done before he can even open his mouth and now Yuuri’s gently urging him to bend over. “Lean against the headboard, there. Are you comfortable?” he asks with his usual caring voice, and Yuri nods without saying a word. His cheeks are burning for the embarrassment, and he’s starting to regret accepting that massage.

He hears the _pop_ of a bottle being opened behind him, and then feels a cold sensation when Yuuri pours the oil onto his still flushed skin.

 

“Ah!” Yuri jumps, inhaling all of a sudden. “It’s cold!”

 

“Sorry,” Yuuri hastily answers, rubbing the ointment with quick movements to warm it up, before starting to massage him at a slower pace.

 

“Better?” he asks then, and Yuri grunts something in response, unable to speak, overwhelmed by the feeling of his warm hands on him.

 

“You know, I think you’re starting to spoil him,” Victor remarks, seeming more amused than bothered, as he finishes stripping behind them, his eyes not leaving them for a second.

 

“You’re just jealous,” Yuuri scolds him, slightly turning his head in his direction.

 

“Maybe,” he replies, smiling lovingly at him, then bending over to kiss him once again and dropping at their side, wearing only his boxers.

 

Yuuri quickly averts his eyes, the sight of Victor’s ripped, half-naked body resting on his own bed sheets is too great a temptation, and at the moment he doesn’t want to get distracted. He gets back to fully dedicate himself to Yuri, thinking absentmindedly about how everything seems so normal, so easy, with Victor at his side.

He runs his hands on Yuri’s back, pressing on the tensest points, and it only takes a few minutes for Yuri to melt under his touch, moaning in relief every time he reaches a particularly aching spot, embarrassment and shame already forgotten.

Yuuri smiles satisfied and runs down the spine, from top to bottom, tracing circles with his thumbs around every vertebra until he reaches the sacrum and the little dimples right above the butt cheeks. Yuri gets tense, holding his breath when he feels him so close to such an intimate part of his body. Yet, before he has the chance to complain, Yuuri’s warm hands are already moving upwards again. He feels him sliding along his hips, pressing against the ribs and the shoulder blades with his palms, making Yuri forget why he actually wanted to complain in the first place.

When Yuuri reaches the sides, massaging right behind the armpits, he squirms.  

 

“It tickles!” Yuri exclaims, and Yuuri quickly apologises, returning to the centre of his back once again. He would have never thought Yuri to be ticklish, but he is glad he gets to know even that cute, tiny detail of him now.

 

At their side, Victor looks at them in awe. Seeing the two boys actually getting along is quite incredible, and seeing Yuri allow someone else apart from him to touch him in such a way seems like a dream. A wonderful dream from which he doesn’t want to wake up.

 

He doesn’t want to do anything that might ruin that moment. He doesn’t want to listen to his alpha instinct screaming to touch them, take them, make them his. But Yuri’s constant moans and the way he arches under every little touch are going straight to his groin, making him hard. And when he can’t hold it any longer, he sits up and reaches out to take Yuuri’s hand and guide it upwards.

 

“Here… This is where he likes it the most,” he murmurs, encouraging Yuuri to massage the nape of Yuri’s neck, the most sensitive spot of every omega’s body.

 

Yuri shudders, letting out a moan louder than the others, while Yuuri carefully massages the spot, almost hesitantly, under Victor’s piercing gaze.

Yuuri blushes, fully aware of the intimacy of what he’s doing. He shouldn’t even be allowed to touch him there, like that. But Victor doesn’t let him go and Yuri’s breath grows heavier under his hands, almost panting, sending shivers of excitement down Yuuri’s spine, directly to his cock, which bulges in response, constrained in his boxers.

 

Victor lets his free hand wander down Yuri’s side, unable to control himself any further, and from there he makes his way up to his chest, reaching his nipple. He’s thrilled with excitement as he feels it already perked up around his fingers, and a little bit swollen too, due to the pregnancy. Yet, at that touch Yuri withdraws with a start, as if his fingers were burning. He turns around to look at him, and then suddenly the spell is broken and everything seems tremendously wrong.

All of a sudden, Yuri’s aware of his painful erection throbbing between his thighs, and the lump in his throat. He backs away, wriggling free from them, until he crouches with his back to the wall, his legs drawn up to his chest.

 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, don’t worry,” Victor reassures him with tender voice, but Yuuri is able to catch the concern in his words as he approaches Yuri cautiously, like when approaching a scared wild animal. And he doesn’t seem to understand the reason until Yuri shifts his eyes from Victor to him. There’s shame and humiliation in them, but above all, there’s raw, unconditional fear, a sheer dread that leaves him breathless.

 

“It’s ok,” Victor whispers once again, lightly brushing his hair with the most delicate caress. Yuri jolts but lets him come closer, and when he’s within reach he clings to his shoulders desperately, trying to make himself as tiny as possible against Victor’s chest, as though trying to hide from Yuuri. And Yuuri realises. It’s like that night, when he was petting his hair while watching videos together, lying on the bed. There’s the very same fear in Yuri’s eyes. The fear of having done something wrong, something dirty.

 

“Is it my fault?” he then whispers, and it sounds more like an admission of guilt than a question, and Victor slowly nods, as expected.

 

“Is it because he got aroused when I touched him?” he gasps, and Victor nods again, surprised that he figured out without needing an explanation.

 

“I shouldn’t have encouraged you to touch him like that, I’m the one to blame,” he adds ruefully, cradling Yuri in his arms.

 

“No, you’re not,” Yuuri replies, and his words echo loudly in the room.

 

Seeing Yuri in that state pains him almost physically. He knows perfectly what it means to feel wrong for something like that, something you cannot control, something natural, but that the world has lead you to think is wrong. And he doesn’t want Yuri to feel like that. Not there, now where he should feel safe, protected, happy. Not with them. Not with him.

 

“This is not wrong, Yuri!” he says fiercely, repeating those same words he said to him a while back, and Yuri whines trying to curl up even more, to hide that shameful sin throbbing between his legs.

 

“Yuuri…” Victor chimes in, but he cuts him off immediately.

 

“No! I don’t want him to believe I consider him wrong for this! Or disgusting, or perverse or whatever!” he says, maybe a tad too loudly. But he cannot restrain himself. His heart is hammering wildly in his chest, as he relives those feelings he had to face way too many times in the past. “I would never think that, Yuri! Never! I’d never think ill of you for this, and you know that!” he keeps going, talking directly to him. “These things do happen. And it’s okay, there’s nothing wrong about it. You’re not alone, it doesn’t happen only to you!” he says vehemently, but his words seem to have no effect at all. Yuri is still trembling, curled up against Victor, as though he hasn’t even heard him. This time’s clearly worse than the last.

 

“Can you show him?” Victor’s voice makes him start, he was so focussed on Yuri that for a second he’s forgotten about his presence. Almost.

 

“What?”

 

“Can you show him? That you don’t judge him, you don’t think badly of him, that it doesn’t happen to him alone?” Victor reiterates, and when he meets his gaze, Yuuri’s heart skips a beat at the realisation of what he’s asking of him. But Victor’s eyes are boring into him, and he knows, he feels, that if he backs off now, it will be all over. Whatever bond has been developing between him and Yuri until that moment will shatter into pieces.

 

“How?” he asks, struggling to swallow. Silently consenting to Victor’s request, aware of the implications of that single word, of what he’s agreeing to.

 

Victor shifts, kneeling onto the bed, forcing Yuri to move with him despite his feeble whining.

 

“Come here,” Victor calls him, and Yuuri approaches, heart pounding in his chest, ready to do anything to make Yuri understand he must not fear him. That he must not feel wrong for something like that.

He stays still on his knees at their side, silently waiting for whatever Victor is going to do. He watches him delicately take Yuri’s hand, meeting his fierce resistance.

 

“Trust me, Yuri,” he murmurs in Russian directly in his ear, and those simple words are enough to soothe him, to make him yield and stop struggling. He lets Victor gently guide him until his fingers touch Yuuri’s chest, on the breastbone. He starts and glances upwards, looking at Yuuri in apprehension.

 

“This is okay,” murmurs Victor, sliding his hand downwards, beyond the loose neckline of the yukata, on Yuuri’s flushed skin. They both hold their breath, and Yuri instantly tries to withdraw his hand. That simple contact is enough arouse him again.

He shuts his eyes and turns his head, worrying at his lower lip. He feels dirty and wrong, just like when he was just a little boy and got horny for no reason, with mere contact, or a caress, or a lingering gaze.

Victor’s free hand slowly runs up along his thigh, severing his trail of thought, and then rests on his bulging erection.

 

“This is okay,” he whispers, caressing it through the light fabric of his trousers, getting a surprised squeal out of him.

 

“Yuuri doesn’t judge you, doesn’t laugh at you. Doesn’t think you’re wrong for this.” He moves his hand down Yuuri’s chest, past the obi. Yuri stiffens when he figures out his intentions and tries to fight him off, but Victor doesn’t let him pull back and places his hand on Yuuri’s throbbing erection, who, at the contact, lets a small, surprised whimper escape his lips, but doesn’t back off.

 

“You see?” Victor asks sweetly, encouraging him to look up and meet Yuuri’s eyes.

Yuuri looks back at him without hesitation, shouldering his fears, accepting and sharing them without running away. He lifts his hands to tenderly cup Yuri’s face.

 

“I would never think badly of you,” he whispers, and tears brim in Yuri’s eyes.

 

“It’s all right, Yuri. He’s not Yakov, not someone who wants to hurts you. It’s Yuuri. It’s us,” murmurs Victor, letting him go to caress his back with wide, reassuring movements, infusing that _us_ with all the love he’s capable of. And Yuri feels the tension knotting in his stomach dissolve slowly. He bends forward and rests his forehead against Yuuri’s chest, leaving him speechless.

Victor pulls back with a smile on his lips, aware that the most important step has been made, that his help is no longer necessary now.

Yuuri hesitates for a split second before wrapping his arms around the boy in front of him, pulling him into a tight embrace full of affection and relief.

They stay like that for a long moment, until Yuuri feels something pressing against his thigh. He slightly bends his head and realises Yuri is rutting his hips against him, thrusting his erections against his leg and exhaling sweet, muffled, little whimpers.

Yuuri’s breath hitches, and he turns towards Victor in bafflement. But Victor just barely shakes his head and urges him not to back away, to indulge him, and he does, despite his heartbeat still racing and pounding in his ears, and the fear of doing something wrong.

He loosens the hug just a bit and Yuri stills, dreading rejection, so he promptly runs his hands down his bare back, drawing winding spirals on his flawless skin, pulling him closer, lining up their groins. Yuri shudders, a strangled moan escaping his lips as he presses against him. Now that Victor’s told him this is okay, it’s like a wall has come down in his mind. A wall he didn’t even know was there, and the thirst he’s been repressing for weeks suddenly pours out, overwhelming.

He clings to Yuuri, grinding shamelessly against him, tears in his eyes as he chases that orgasm he’s feared so much until a few seconds ago.

Yuuri stifles a groan when their erections rub together through their clothes, pressing against each other, and Yuri quivers, feeling how hard he is as he holds him tight. Yuuri doesn’t judge him, isn’t disgusted, he’s not going to hurt him. Yuri arches his back with an unrestrained, lustful moan, and Yuuri gapes at him. A part of his brain is registering that sound and wondering whether he, too, moans so deliciously when touched.

He slides his hands downwards, pressing Yuri tighter against himself in an attempt to get more friction, and Yuri almost screams feeling his groin burn.

He turn his head to seek Victor with desperate eyes, and he’s immediately at his side.

 

“I’m here, it’s alright, you can come, Yuri,” he murmurs caressing his neck, in the spot Yuuri touched earlier, and that simple gesture is enough to push Yuri beyond his limit. He throws his head back, and as he climaxes he is so disarmingly beautiful that Yuuri can’t but follow, collapsing in his own orgasm.

 

Yuri flops down in his arms breathing heavily, and Victor eases him onto the bed sheets. When he opens his eyes, still shaken by the last spasms of pleasure, there’s a tinge of apprehension and uncertainty in them. But Victor tenderly kisses him with a sweet smile.

 

“You did well,” he murmurs against his lips. “Very well,” he says again, and Yuri magically relaxes at those words, any trace of uncertainty gone from his face.

 

Victor draws back just enough to kneel down at his side, not breaking contact, knowing how much Yuri needs to feel him near in that moment. He delicately peels off his trousers, and then his underwear, leaving him naked and exposed under Yuuri’s piercing eyes, which he doesn't tear away this time. Yuri’s cheeks slightly flush red, but he doesn’t try to cover himself, nor to withdraw, and it’s clear that something has deeply changed between the two of them.

Victor grabs the tissue box on the bedside table, and takes his time to carefully wipe him clean. He bends to kiss his belly, getting a sigh from him, before helping him to slip on a pair of clean boxers and get under the bed sheets.

When Yuri curls up, eyes shut and ready to fall asleep, Victor turns to Yuuri and motions for him to lie down, a couple of clean tissues in his hand waiting for him.

 

“I can do it myself,” Yuuri stammers awkwardly, for some reason that kind of attentions still make him deeply uneasy.

 

“Please,” Victor insists sweetly, his gaze intense. And he yields. He lies down and lets Victor lavish on him the same attentions he just has on Yuri, trying to ignore the embarrassment of being undressed and cleaned like that.

When he’s done, Victor lies down at his side and tucks light bed sheets over the three of them, wrapping them in a soft embrace, his heart bursting with joy.

 

 

***

 

 

The morning after, Yuuri wakes up in Victor’s arms, his breath tickling the nape of his neck, and Yuri curled up against his chest, their legs tangled together. He looks down upon him as he recalls the events of the previous night. He wonders whether it’s all been just a dream. It wouldn’t be the first time he has such dreams, ever since Yuri came back from Russia with Victor, but this one seems definitely too real. The memory of the fear he saw in his eyes is seared into his mind, and something like that cannot have been created by his imagination.

He reaches to tenderly caress his hair, then brushes it away from his peacefully sleeping face. Yuri’s eyelids flutter slightly, he’s probably about to wake up. Yuuri observes the way his lashes curl against his cheeks, the perfect profile of his nose, the slightly parted lips of a vibrant shade of pink. He’s so beautiful it almost hurts, and Yuuri feels insignificant next to him. How could he ever compare to such beauty? He still can’t wrap his mind about why Victor wants him, why he’s chosen him and is fighting to make that weird, messed up relationship among them work. But he’s oddly glad about it, even though he struggles to admit that.

Yuri frowns and a second after opens his eyes, meeting a pair of amber irises staring down at him. Yuuri blushes and quickly withdraws his hand, feeling caught red-handed, but Yuri doesn’t look particularly annoyed. Not more than usual, that is.

 

“Sorry... I didn’t want to wake you,” he stammers, holding his breath, waiting for his reaction.

 

“What time is it?” Yuri drawls, wriggling free from his embrace to sit up, before stretching with a groan.

 

Yuuri glances at Victor’s watch peeking from under the pillow. “Oh… Crap, it’s twenty past nine.”

 

“WHAT?!” Yuri shrieks, darting out of the bed to hastily don his yukata and grab a lump of clothes left on the chair the previous night, before turning to face them.

 

“So? Are you going to get up or what?!” Yuri walks back to the bed and kicks Victor, who jolts with a whimper.

 

“What the— Oh… Good morning, Yurio,” he slurs, drowsily rubbing his eyes.

 

“Good morning my arse! It’s late! You two idiots forgot to set the alarm yesterday night!” Yuri yells kicking him again, likely just for the sake of bullying him. Victor yelps and withdraws.

 

“Hey! I’m awake, okay?! I’m getting up, I’m getting up!” he whines.

 

“You’d better! You too, fatty, get moving!” Yuri barks before storming out of the room and into the bathroom, leaving Yuuri gaping and dumbstruck.

 

He lowers his eyes onto the bed sheets, his brow furrowed, maybe it was really just a dream after all. And yet… it felt so real.

At his side, Victor lies down again with a sigh. He lifts a hand and runs his fingers down Yuuri’s naked back, making him shiver.

 

“Hey, what’s wrong? Why that look?” he asks, slipping his index under the elastic of Yuuri’s boxers. He pulls it and then lets it go with a loud snap, and Yuuri starts.

 

“Nothing!” he hastily replies, flushing, and then shifts. “It’s just… I had a weird dream,” he mutters frowning. After a long moment’s silence, Victor stifles a light chuckle.

 

“Oh, Yuuri, it wasn’t a dream.” He sits up and rests his chin on his shoulder. “It happened for real,” he adds, and his voice sounds so happy that Yuuri can’t but believe him, not even feeling too embarrassed at the memory of what he did. But in spite of that, Yuri’s reaction that morning still feels off.

 

“But… Yurio…” he begins, but he can’t find the words to describe what he wants to say. How can he explain his feelings to Victor? He sort of expected Yuri to be embarrassed, or maybe more affectionate. An image is swirling in his mind, that expression full of love he’s seen on Yuri’s face only a handful of times, while looking at Victor, but this time directed to him. He flushes at the mere thought and mentally kicks himself for thinking such a thing. Obviously, Yuri would never look at him that way. He’d have no reason to. But surely he didn’t expect him to behave like nothing ever happened.

Behind him, Victor shifts to look at the door, as though trying to understand what he’s talking about, before it clicks.

 

“Oh, that! Did you perhaps expect something different?” he asks, and Yuuri’s cheeks goes a shade redder.

 

“Well… Yes!” he says, turning to look at him, and Victor smiles.

 

“That’s how Yurio is. You can’t expect him to be all lovey dovey and shower you with kisses and sweet words,” Victor says smoothly. “He doesn’t do that with me, either. In fact, he never did. Not even in his worst moments, when he’d hole up at my place for days, and would spend whole nights torturing himself, trying to fight back his impulses, just to give in without fail. The morning after it was like nothing had happened.”

 

“Really?” Yuuri asks surprised. He’d have never expected that. He’s always thought Yuri was different with Victor. He has imagined him going around that flat he’d never seen, wearing one of Victor’s shirts and a radiant smile, ready to shower him with his love. But he was clearly wrong.

 

“Yes, really. Being with him is almost like being with two different people,” Victor goes on. “On the one hand, the scared child desperately looking for attentions and love, who turns into a lust-driven creature at the slightest stimulation, and on the other hand the cold and detached boy, hidden behind a wall that protects him from the outer world.”

 

Yuuri listens to him in silence, and feels useless. He knows so little about Yuri. Even though he’s started to understand him more lately, he thinks he’s still light years away from fully figuring him out.

 

“You’ll get to know him, you’ll see. But yesterday night you were amazing,” Victor says, looking at him in admiration. “I couldn’t have found someone better than you,” he adds, kissing him passionately, making him blush with embarrassment, more because of his praise than the gesture itself.

 

“I’ve done nothing,” he mutters awkwardly.

 

“You’ve done more than you can imagine.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NOTE FINALI:

 

In omegaverse, omegas have a gland on their neck secreting pheromones, which is very sensitive at the slightest stimulation. It’s one of the ultimate erogenous spots, as it’s where alphas bite the omega to create the bond.

 

So, what do you think? This was meant to be divided in two chapters, but I thought best I put them together…

 

I had been wanting to write about Yuri finally deciding to go buy premaman clothes ever since the first chapter, and I wanted to make it a tad bittersweet for him, because also in the anime it’s clear that he’s aware of his body and the way it’s changing, and that it’s not a positive thing for him.

 

About their first “intimate” moment… It was hard to write! God, so hard! But I hope it’s not too tragic, and that I managed to convey the feelings of the three of them in that delicate moment!


	16. Chapter 16

After what happened between them upon their return from their first premaman shopping, Yuri’s kept behaving like nothing ever happened, and Yuuri, for his part, has no chance to address the issue, crushed by the intensive training schedule Victor is putting him through in preparation for the Cup of China.

So, before even realising it, they find themselves on the flight that will take them to the third event of the Grand Prix, because this time it was clear from the start that under no circumstances would they leave Yuri all alone in Japan.

From the plane, the city glistens like a chest of bright lights in the dark of the night, active and full of life, so different from the small Hasetsu they left behind just a few hours earlier.

They arrive at the hotel in the dead of night, and the hall is almost deserted. The concierge at the reception desk welcomes them with a professional yet tired greeting, worn out by the extra shifts she had to cover in view of that important event.

 

“Good evening, we have a reservation under Katsuki,” Victor says affably, leaning against the desk with nonchalant grace.

 

The woman has a moment’s hesitation, charmed by his good looks, then blushes, probably reconsidering her aversion to the night shift now that Victor’s standing in front of her. She quickly drops her eyes and types the name in, misspelling it wrong thrice before finally getting it right and pressing enter.

 

“Yes… Here it is, double room, number 347, third floor,” she says in a perfect English, save for the thick Asian accent.

 

“Actually, we would need a change, if possible, as there are three of us instead of two,” he points out, and the woman leans out just enough to glimpse behind him.

Yuri shoots at her an annoyed glance, while Yuuri simply smiles politely.

 

“I see, let me check.” She quickly types something, then looks at them. “Unfortunately, there are no triples available at the moment, due to tomorrow’s event,” she explains fretfully, as though feeling directly responsible for that shortcoming, and it’s probably just caused by the fear of disappointing someone like the great Victor Nikiforov.

 

“Is there really nothing you can do for us… Xiang?” Victor asks with mellow voice, reading the name on the brass plate attached to her elegant cerulean-grey dress suit.

 

The young woman blushes violently, and the quiver running through her is almost tangible. “I-I can move you to a double with divan bed… or a suite,” she splutters, and Victor slightly arches an eyebrow.

 

“The suite will be perfect.”

 

“Victor!” Yuuri exclaims behind him. “We don’t need a suite, the double will be fine!” he says directly to the woman, who’s clearly having a hard time taking her eyes off Victor and paying attention to him, which annoys him to a considerable extent.

 

“Oh, Yuuri, I just want the best for the two of you,” whispers Victor, leaning in with a mischievous grin, positively too close.

 

Yuuri flushes, as well as the woman behind the desk, before pulling away quickly.

 

“The double is more than enough, a bed’s a bed after all,” he stutters awkwardly, and Victor sighs in a melodramatic fashion.

 

“Very well, as you prefer. We’ll take the double,” he gives in, addressing Xiang again.

 

“I need your documents for the registration, it will take only a few minutes,” she says then, trying to regain her composure as they hand her their ID cards, along with Victor’s credit card.

 

“How much longer? I’m tired,” Yuri huffs, slumped against the desk with his usual finesse, startling the woman who, feeling called upon, starts typing even faster.

 

Yuuri draws closer and caresses his back, massaging it delicately. Although Yuri’s been basically ignoring him in the last period, he’s never stopped showering him with little attentions whenever he gets the chance, like in that moment. And he’s about to say something to comfort him, when a voice interrupts him calling his name loudly, making him turn around.

 

Phichit is striding across the hall towards them with a huge grin on his lips.

 

“Phichit!” Yuuri smiles, meeting him halfway, happy to see him after such a long time. They haven’t quite been keeping in touch lately, for obvious reasons, and now that he sees him again he realises how much he’s missed his best friend. “How are you?” he asks with a quick hug, a gesture that Victor doesn’t fail to notice.

 

“I’m well! A bit anxious about tomorrow, to be honest,” Phichit admits, and he nods, if someone can understand that, it’s certainly him. “What about you? I haven’t talked to you in weeks!”

 

“Yeah, sorry, I’ve been a tad busy…” he replies, thinking of all the days he he’s spent running up and down Hasetsu to satisfy Yuri’s peculiar cravings, or dealing with his fits of rage or hysterical crying.

 

“Training under the great Victor Nikiforov is too much even for you, huh?” Phichit comments, wiggling his eyebrows as though hinting at something else entirely, and Yuuri’s cheeks flush a deep red.

 

“Phichit!” he yells embarrassed, making Phichit burst into laughter. He confessed as soon as things between him and Victor took an erotic turn, more than a professional one, but hearing him talk about it still makes him uneasy.

 

“Yuuri, we’re done, are you coming?” Victor calls him, waiting for him a few steps away, with a remarkably restless and pouting Yuri at his side.

 

“Coming in a second, you go ahead,” he replies cheerily.

 

“You sure?” Victor insists, the idea of leaving him alone with that boy isn’t appealing in the least.

 

“Sure, I’ll join you shortly,” he smiles.

 

“As you wish. Room 450, fourth floor,” Victor fills him in and he nods, but Victor seems unwilling to leave.

 

“Don’t be late,” he adds with his deep voice, making those simple words sound like a direct order. An order which Yuuri is more than inclined to obey.

 

He nods, feeling his stomach tingle pleasantly at Victor’s possessive behaviour as he disappears behind the lift doors with Yuri.

 

When Yuuri turns around, he’s dumbfounded by the expression on Phichit’s face.

 

“Was that Yuri Plisetsky?” Phichit asks, his eyes as wide as saucers like if he’s just seen a mystical apparition.

 

“Uh… yeah?” he answers, confused.

 

“And the bump? Have you seen his baby bump?” Phichit hisses, finally turning around to look at him, seeking confirmation that he wasn’t just hallucinating.

 

“Y-yes…” he stammers, suddenly realising the reason behind Phichit’s surprise. He’s so used to seeing Yuri every day that by now he doesn’t even notices it, even though his eyes dwell on it in admiration quite often, but it’s clearly much more evident to other people than it is for him.

 

“That means the rumours were true! They were… bloody true!” Phichit stresses, bewilderment all over his face.

 

“What rumours?” he frowns.

 

“What do you mean, what rumours? Everybody’s been talking about it! Ever since he had that accident! They said he was injured and forced to withdraw, but there were also people saying he was pregnant, apparently a nurse in the hospital talked to the press… I thought it was just the usual unfounded rumours, but… bloody hell! They were true!” Phichit says excitedly. In fact, it’s been months since Yuuri had time to check the news about the skating world, no wonder he never became aware of that _tiny_ detail.

 

“I can’t believe it! That’s why he didn’t show up at skate Canada, isn't it? Injury my arse!”

 

 _Oh,_ Yuuri remembers that day very well. They found Yuri holed up in his room, streaming the competition live with tear-filled eyes, biting his lips hard enough to draw blood. When they tried to comfort him, he had a violent outburst and cried desperately, to which followed two days of deep depression and isolation, where he stuffed himself with ice cream to the point of feeling nauseous. It wasn’t a good week for any of them. No.

 

“You knew?” Phichit asks suddenly, and Yuuri snaps out of his thoughts. He hesitates, and Phichit scrutinises him with an inquisitive look. “What are you hiding from me?”

 

“Nothing…” he tries, even though he knows it’s useless.

 

“Yuuri, I’ve known you ever since we were children, I know when you’re hiding something from me,” Phichit unsurprisingly points out, and he sighs.

 

“Do we have to do this right here?” he eventually gives in, knowing he has no way out of it.

 

“We can go to my room,” Phichit immediately offers.

 

“What about Celestino?”

 

“He’s out drinking and won’t be back until late, and at that point he won’t even be able to recognise you. You know him.” Yuuri chuckles lightly, yes, he remembers him perfectly. So, after a couple of minutes, they’re in Phichit’s room, sitting comfortably on his bed just like they used to in the past, back when they shared a room in Detroit. And just like then, Yuuri finds himself opening up to him, confiding his new secret, maybe the greatest he’s ever had, and Phichit listens in deadly silence. On his face, his expression shifts from excited to surprised to disbelieving, and eventually settles on utterly shocked.

 

“So… you’re saying that Victor is the father and he wants to raise the child, but at the same time he doesn’t want to leave you?” he finally asks recapping it all so far. “And that you are… falling in love with Yuri Plisetsky?!” he adds, possibly more upset because of that last part than everything else.

 

Yuuri nods and hugs his knees to his chest, trying to shrink away from him as much as possible.

 

“I don’t know… I don’t know if I can call it love, but… I know I have feelings for him,” he murmurs with his chin resting on his knees, his cheeks flushed. It was hard to admit it to himself, talking about it out loud is even harder and makes it way more real than when he just thought about it, alone, lying on his bed at Yu-Topia.

 

“Oh Yuuri,” Phichit sighs, running a hand through his hair, and he curls up even more. Phichit is one of his very few friends, and the only one outside his family he ever trusted enough to confess to being an omega. He’s always thought Phichit would be on his side, no matter what. He was there for him in the worst moments of his life. The first times he was in heat without a mate, and then through the horrible side effects of the suppressants, when he started to take them; when he was crying because of people’s malicious remarks, and when he suffered the first pangs of love.

He’s been with him unfailingly, maybe even more than Yuuko, but now, seeing the expression on his face, he has a feeling that talking to him about that wasn’t a good idea. Maybe this time he was wrong to trust him.

 

“This feels a lot like a déjà-vu,” Phichit says carefully. “The same happened when Yuuko got pregnant, remember?” he asks, and Yuuri’s stomach drops. When she told him about her pregnancy, he developed an almost morbid attachment to her, and ended up mistaking it for love, only to go cry in Phichit’s arms after figuring out he was just deceiving himself, and didn’t actually feel what he thought he did.

 

“Maybe you’re just getting caught again in this pregnancy thing… After what happened to you in the past it would be understandable, but mate, you need to move on,” Phichit presses, and Yuuri winces at those words as memories come flooding back, stinging as though only a handful of hours had passed, instead of years.

Is that so? Is he just too involved in the situation, the pregnancy and all that? The thought feels like a stab in the gut.

 

“No, this time it’s different,” he tries to insist, but it sounds weak even to himself.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

Yuuri doesn’t answer, and he keeps going unrestrained. “I’m just saying, it’s odd that you would suddenly fall in love with someone like Yuri Plisetsky… Yuri Plisetsky!” he repeats emphatically, as if talking about something repulsive. “Last we spoke, you spent half an hour ranting about how mean he was to you, and how happy you were that he eventually hit the bricks, leaving the field clear for you and Victor. And now you’re telling me you’re willing to share Victor with him, and start a new life together like a happy little polygamous family?” He arches an eyebrow, and his reasoning is in fact faultless. Yuuri’s mind is working too fast, filling up with doubts and questions, dragging him into the abyss of his anxiety.

Yuuri shrugs, heart sinking in his chest, and Phichit immediately notices the shift in his demeanour, the tension in his body.

 

“Yuuri, I’m not saying it’s wrong. If this is what you really want then it’s okay, but I’m just afraid you’re going to get burnt again.” His voice is sweeter as he reaches to rest a hand on Yuuri’s knee in an affectionate gesture. But Yuuri cannot shake off that feeling gnawing at his gut.

 

Even in their world, where polygamous relationships between alphas and omegas are not that uncommon after all, they’re still not well-received by everyone. Before this, he hadn’t taken into consideration the idea of having more than one partner and sharing his alpha with other omegas, either. And then, he somehow found himself in the middle of this, all of a sudden. The last few months have been intense and chaotic, as he had to split himself between training, and his family and Victor, and Yuuri never quite had time to stop and think, to take a minute and consider if that’s what he truly wants. Maybe Phichit’s right, maybe he really let himself get carried away by the current.

Phichit starts to worry as Yuuri’s silence prolongs.

 

“Yuuri…” he calls him, slightly squeezing his knee, bringing him back to reality.

 

“I… have to go,” Yuuri mumbles, slipping away from his hold and off the bed, clumsy, keen to get away from there, from the doubts he instilled in his mind.

 

“Wait, don’t go! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say anything wrong,” Phichit quickly apologises, but Yuuri has already reached the door and is opening it with shaking hands, pausing on the threshold for an instant.

 

“See you tomorrow in competition,” he murmurs without turning around before slamming the door behind him, his stomach tied in a knot.

 

On the way to his room, he cannot get rid of that one question milling around in his mind.

 

_Did I let myself get carried away by the events?_

No, he didn’t. It’s not like it was with Yuuko, he hasn’t a crush on him just because of the pregnancy, just because he’d like to be in his place. There’s more between them. There’s more, and he knows it.

 

_Really? What? What else is there?_

He can’t quite put his finger on it. Yuri has always been vicious and mean towards him, has ridiculed and abused him at every occasion, calling him malicious names, even getting to the point of suggesting he quit figure skating.

 

_Yes, but he’s changed now. He really has._

Has he? Has he not? He doesn’t know, there’s such a mess in his head that he isn’t able to concentrate. When he gets to room 450, he sees that Victor has left the door open for him. What an idiot. Yuuri quietly slips in. He closes the door, plunging the room into almost total darkness, and it takes a few minutes for his eyes to get used to it. When they finally focus, Yuuri realises Victor and Yuri are sleeping together in the same cramped twin bed, in each other’s arms, the divan bed untouched on the other side of the room. His eyes prickle with tears.

He shouldn’t be jealous, Victor slept with him every past night, and before Yuri decided to join them, too.

 

_But he’s chosen him tonight. He could have waited for you. He could have pushed the beds together._

His heart clenches in an agonising grip at the thought. He bites his lips and looks away. He undresses in silence and slips under the bed sheets of the empty bed next to theirs, and it feels like being back to those first days after Viktor brought Yuri back to Japan. His eyes keeps glancing at them in the dark, and he perfectly remembers the pain he felt on that first day, upon discovering that dreadful truth.

And how hurt he felt, and betrayed and abandoned, and he hated Yuri because he was the reason Victor would never be his. In the darkness, he cannot recall Victor’s comforting words, nor what eventually made him feel compassion for Yuri.

He forces himself to roll onto his side, his back to them, the questions crowding his mind louder than ever, his heart beating so fast it seems like it’s trying to jump out of his chest.

 

_Are you willing to see him love someone else more than you?_

 

He grits his teeth while covering his ears, as if that could cut out the voice from his head, giving him some relief from its torment, even though he knows it’s impossible.

So he tries to bring back to his mind the happy moments they’ve spent together, the bond he felt with Yuri, Victor’s love, but it’s useless. Now he only feels a deep jealousy and a consuming anxiety, just like before every competition, only a thousand times worse.

 

He doesn’t manage to get any sleep at all, and when in the morning the sun peeks from behind the curtains, he’s dead tired. Victor notices immediately, as soon as Yuuri drags himself out of the small bathroom where he’s hidden away to change his clothes. For the first time in months, he wasn’t able to undress in front of them, or see them undress shamelessly in front of him, feeling that something about it is deeply wrong.

 

“No need to fret, you’ll be fine,” Victor tries to reassure him, perfectly unaware of his internal struggle. “After all, you have the best coach in the world,” he adds in a futile attempt to make him smile.

 

Coach. _Is that all you are to me?_ Yuuri wonders, his heart aching in his chest.

 

Victor sighs, realising that any effort would be useless anyway, and turns his back on him to talk to Yuri. An inconsequential gesture, but in that moment it strikes Yuuri like a stab in the chest.

 

“Are you ready, Yurio?” Victor grabs the key card and opens the door, waiting for them to exit first.

 

“Do I really have to come?” Yuri grumbles disgruntled, and Yuuri feels a surge of annoyance upon hearing him complain.

 

“Yes. I’m not leaving you alone to get into trouble again.”

 

“I’m not a child,” he barks, folding his arms.

 

“Come on, hurry up or we’ll be late.”

 

Yuri huffs and hauls himself out of the room, hunching his shoulders as though trying to hide his baby bump. The very same bump he showed off with pride after the day they spent shopping together.

Yuuri darts a quick glance at him, wondering for the umpteenth time whether he only ended up feeling something for him because of that. Whether he identified himself with Yuri too much, and let himself be fascinated.

He clenches his teeth and follows them, head down.

He stays quiet and hardly touches any food, despite Victor’s scolding. The painful grip in his stomach refuses to release him. He knows if he tried to eat he’d likely end up vomiting. He wouldn’t be the first time, and he’d rather avoid it.

 

When they finally arrive at the rink, the rows of seats are already full of people, and cameras are staring at the skaters warming up and waiting for the competition to begin.

Anxiety washes over Yuuri like before every event. But this time it’s even worse. He’s not able to focus, his mind keeps wandering, sweeping him towards painful thoughts, a blend of present and past.

Victor has long given up trying to reassure him, and now he’s silently observing him get ready for his performance, just as tense as Yuuri.

When the time comes for him to step on the ice, Yuuri is suffocating. The lenses of the cameras are blind eyes waiting for his mistake, for his failure. He glides on the ice holding his breath, and turns around to cling to the barrier as he waits for Victor’s last words of encouragement, his knuckles turning white from how desperately he’s clutching at it. He doesn’t want to go.

Victor’s hands move to cover his, thumbs brushing the back in a chaste caress. After all, they’re under the eyes of the whole world, and surely Victor has no intention nor interest of exposing their relationship. Assuming they ever had one.

 

“Relax. Clear your head.” Victor slightly tightens his hold, intertwining their fingers. “Don’t think about anything. It’s just me and you, at Ice Castle,” he says, trying to create that mental image for him. It worked when Yuuri competed in Japan, but now it just feels like a mockery.

 

_It’s never going to be just me and you._

 

Yuuri pulls back from him without answering before he can see the hurt in his eyes, the awareness that it’s just a lie. He skates to the centre of the rink, grits his teeth, and strikes his pose.

 

“Next competitor is Katsuki Yuuri, from Japan.” The commentator voice sounds distorted to his ears, drowned in the din of the cheering crowd.

“He’s skating his short programme for the Grand Prix to _“On Love: Eros”_ , choreographed by his coach Victor Nikiforov.”

 

Yuuri misses the beginning of the music and starts a few seconds later. He bites the inside of his cheeks, mentally cursing himself.

 

_I need to calm down, I need to focus!_

 

He tries to empty his mind, but the commentary keeps distracting him, adding up to the thousand thoughts swirling in his head and the cacophony of the yelling audience.

 

“He stated that his theme for this season is love.”

“Considering his music choice for this routine, we can imagine what kind of love it is about,” the second voice hints ironically, startling Yuuri.

 

 _Eros_. Sexual love, passionate, scorching. He should be skating sensually, try to seduce public and judges like he did with Victor, but now he only feels awkward and insecure.

 

_I never seduced him, if I had, he would’ve chosen me and not him._

 

He balls up his fists and gets ready for the first spin, bending forward and straightening his leg back. The world spins around him. He tries—and fails—to keep count of the rotations. The one thing he manages to think about now is Phichit’s words, and all the doubts they unleashed inside him. Love. Eros. He can’t remember the meaning of those words.

He completes the spin and glides into the step sequence concluding the first part of the programme, and no matter how hard he tries, he’s not able to be alluring. He’s rigid and clumsy, and more than the most beautiful woman in town who seduces the playboy, he feels like one of the many throwaway women he left along his path. Tears sting in his eyes.

 

“Katsuki Yuuri has planned all his jumps for the second half of the programme to get higher scores so he can win the Grand Prix Final.”

“Well, this will be tough,” the voice comments, and Yuuri immediately regrets making that choice. He’s already exhausted, and he still has to start. The sleepless night has worn him out more than he thought, and doubts have deprived him of all the determination and motivation necessary to skate that routine successfully.

 

“The first planned jump is a triple Axel.”

 

He prepares. He’s practiced it so many times with Victor.

Victor. His heart skips a beat.

He jumps, but he doesn’t have enough thrust, and falls hitting his hip on the ice. A chorus of voices rises from the audience, drowning out the commentators’. He sets his teeth to fight the pain and quickly gets up.

Next up is the spread eagle.

 

“Excellent execution! A nice recovery after that fall,” says the voice. “And now a quadruple Salchow. In competition, only a third of his attempts have been successful so far.”

 

He brings his leg back, takes a run-up and jumps. There aren’t enough rotations, and the quadruple turns into a triple, but at least he doesn’t fall.

 

“Ah, what a shame! He didn’t complete the last rotation.”

“It looks like his Eros isn’t in top form,” comments the other with a touch of sarcasm, and Yuuri would like to yell at him to stop talking, to shut up, and that he knows nothing, nothing about him, his life, or his love.

He can’t but launch himself into the jump combination. The quadruple toe loop becomes a triple, and the triple a double. He clenches his fists, heart hammering in his chest, he’s short of breath and his muscles are burning. It’s impossible.

It feels like being back to last season. All his insecurities are there again to drag him to the bottom like a lead anchor tied to his neck.

 

_I’m going to lose! I’m going to lose and he’s going to leave!_

The last spin. The world twirls, whirling around him, his muscles protest when he gets up putting his weight on one leg, he feels tears pressing to come out.

The music slows down, the final effort. He grits his teeth.

 

_Let it be over, let it be over!_

 

The music stops.

He pants and falls on his knees, his lungs on fire and his heart in pieces.

 

“This sure wasn’t the Katsuki Yuuri we all expected to see.”

“Apparently, he’s still struggling to recover from last year’s defeat, despite working together with his new coach Victor Nikiforov,” say the commentators sardonically, as though they weren’t talking of his life, as though he weren’t there, perfectly able to hear them.

 

He hauls himself off the ice, he doesn’t want to go to the kiss and cry, doesn’t want to know his result, he already knows he sucked, that he has no hopes of medalling and going to the final.

But the scores appear on the screen, relentless, followed by the current standings.

 

85.60.

 

Fourth.

He worries at his lower lip. Not as bad as he thought, it’s not all lost yet. He’s going to need more than 190 points in his free skate tomorrow to get even just the chance to step on the podium, and it won’t be easy. Beside him, Victor reaches to caress his hair, and the gesture makes him feel even worse.

 

“You’ll make up for it tomorrow,” he comforts him, but Yuuri doesn’t want to listen. It’s pointless, it’s just an illusion. He can’t do that. And when he’ll lose, Victor will go away, leaving him behind, alone again.

A lump settles in his throat and he quickly gets up and walks away, he doesn’t want to cry in front of the cameras.

Maybe he should just retire, he thinks while running along the corridor, from skating and from his life. At least it would be his own choice. He can still pretend nothing happened. He can still pretend he never knew Victor’s love, his delicate touches and his attentions. The warmth in his voice when he called his name while making love to him.

His heart throbs painfully at that thought.

 

“Yuuri, wait!” He hears Victor’s quick steps behind him, and he’d just want to run away, but his path is obstructed by a crowd gathered at the end of the corridor. He hears the familiar sound of flashes going off and the insistent voices of journalists.

From where he’s standing he can’t see whom they’re interviewing, but it doesn’t look like the usual post-competition interview, there’s too large a commotion, and nobody has delivered such an astounding performance as to be worthy of all that excitement.

Victor catches up with him and stops at his side, panting only just due to the impromptu jog.

 

“What’s going on?” he asks getting closer to the scene, and Yuuri is about to reply he has absolutely no idea, but the journalists’ voices become clearer, and he manages to make out one sentence.

 

“Can you tell us who the father is?”

 

Blood freezes in his veins. Suddenly, everything makes sense. The reporters’ excitation, the crowd, the flashes going off like crazy, as though they were on the red carpet instead of a random side corridor in a random Chinese ice rink.

A name, just one, occupies his mind. Yurio.

 

“How many months are you pregnant?” presses another one.

“Are you going to abandon your artistic career? Surely it won’t be easy to find sponsors once everybody knows you’re an omega.”

 

Voices overlap in a cacophony of sounds, but he cannot hear Yuri’s. When he gets near enough to spot him, he understands why he’s not raging at them with his usual impudent tone. He’s in the centre of the commotion, head down, his back against the wall and his body shaking with tremors.

Yuuri’s heart breaks in his chest.

 

“Let me through!” he snarls, elbowing his way through the crowd, his jealousy towards Yuri gone in an instant. He just wants to get to him and take him away from there, to a safe place where nobody can hurt him.

 

When he’s finally by his side, he firmly grabs his hands and drags him away without turning back. Behind him, Victor shields them from the reporters, holding them back to give them time to flee.

They run blindly along the corridor until they reach an empty locker room.

Yuuri flies the door open and pushes Yuri in, not even caring if it’s the men’s or the ladies’, the only thing that matters is that he’s safe, behind a closed door, out of those bloodthirsty hyenas’ reach.

 

“Are you alright?” he asks Yuri worriedly, moving closer and lifting his face to force Yuri to look at him. His eyes are red and glistening and filled with insecurity, and wrench at his heart, in the same way as the night Yuri first opened up to him, bestowing his trust upon him. “Oh, Yuri.” He hugs him with abandon, holding him tight against his chest, his face buried in his hair. How could he doubt even for a second about his feelings for him?

He feels horrible as he kisses his hair and mentally curses his decision to tell Phichit everything.

 

Victor storms into the room a second later, wild-eyed and short-winded.

 

“Those bastards,” he cusses, surprising them both. Neither of them are used to him swearing or using such a harsh tone.

 

“You okay?” he asks, joining them to brush Yuri’s cheek with a concerned caress, and he nods slowly.

 

“It’s all my fault, if I hadn’t forced you to come it wouldn’t have happened,” Victor adds then, feeling acutely guilty, just like when he left him in Hasetsu to go with Yuuri to the block championships in Japan. Somehow it seems like he never manages to do the right thing.

 

“No, it would have happened anyway sooner or later,” Yuri sniffles against Yuuri’s chest.

 

“I’m so, so sorry.” Victor steps closer and envelops them both in an embrace, and Yuuri feels the last of his doubts melt like snow in the sun. That’s his place, in his arms, in _their_ arms. It isn’t just an infatuation, he didn’t let himself get carried away, he’s not vicariously experiencing the pregnancy he’s always wanted through Yuri. He loves him, loves them both, from the bottom of his heart. And he doesn’t care what people think, doesn’t care if it’s wrong. This is what he wants, what is right for him, and he’s not going to let it slip through his fingers.

 

Yuri shakes his head against him. “It’s just… They took me by surprise, that’s all,” he mutters, sniffling again. “I didn’t know what to answer.”

 

“I should’ve stayed with you, if I hadn’t left you alone…”

 

“Stop saying that! They would have found out all the same!” Yuri says vehemently, wriggling free from the embrace to look at him in the eyes. “It’s pointless! I can’t keep it a secret, look at me! Anyone would figure it out!” he yells, spreading his arms to show his round, swollen belly full of life.

 

“So what do you want to do?”

 

Yuri bites his lip, hesitating.

 

“I’ll agree to an interview. At least if I prepare I’ll know what to say and they won’t be able to catch me on the wrong foot like they did before,” he murmurs lowering his head. The idea of facing again that flood of questions on the most private details of his life scares him to death, but he has no other choice.

 

“Are you sure?” Victor asks, surprised, and he nods.

 

“Better than let them speculate and make up what they like best.”

 

“You have a point,” Victor admits, even though the idea doesn’t thrill him. “But you’ll have to do it as soon as possible, or it will be useless. It will be all over the news in a few days…”

 

Yuri worries at his lower lip. “I’ll do it tomorrow,” he decides, and Victor sighs.

 

“Alright. If you’re sure, I’ll go and inform the press.”

 

“I’m sure,” he says firmly, and Victor leans over to kiss him before leaving the room.

 

Yuuri intertwines their fingers. “Let’s get back,” he whispers, and they leave together, hand in hand.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is! The emotional breakdown we were all waiting for!
> 
> I think I reread and rewrote this chapter at least five times! It’s so bloody hard for me to put myself in Yuuri’s shoes! He’s the opposite of me, but I hope I managed to do at least a decent job.
> 
>  
> 
> The final part’s a bit lame, I’m deeply sorry, but I never know how to end a chapter, and I end up writing rubbish -_____- sorry
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked it all the same, I’m anxiously waiting for your comments!! *w*


	17. Chapter 17

That night they join the beds and sleep together, comforting each other. Yuri lets them wrap their arms around him and doesn’t complain when Yuuri entangles his legs with his, pulling him to his chest, while Victor is right behind him. Their warmth makes Yuri feel safe, protected, and he’d like for this moment to never end. He’d like to just hide there and never get out of that bed again.

But Victor has managed to organise a press conference for the next day, right before the beginning of the competition, with a restriction on the publication of any information up to that moment—or else they’ll cancel the meeting—so there’s no going back now.

Despite the tension, Yuri is able to easily fall asleep, lulled by the warmth of his partners, yet at dawn he’s already awake, anxiety rising with him. He lays in bed while Victor and Yuuri get up to prepare for that morning’s competition, his eyes glued to his phone. He checks social networks for the umpteenth time, looking for pictures of him or titles of scandalmongering articles about his pregnancy.

 

“Nothing?” Victor asks, casting him a glance while buttoning up his shirt by the mirror, impeccable as usual in his two-thousand-euro designer suit.

 

“No,” he mutters, giving him a distracted look. He turns off his phone with an exaggerated sigh, and then throws it onto the bed. He gets up and starts preparing: leaving the warm bed covers is almost an act of physical violence, but he forces himself to drag his feet toward his leopard-themed suitcase, abandoned on the floor.  

 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Victor’s voice is uncertain, he’s somehow expecting a negative answer rather than an affirmative one.

 

“Yes, I’m sure of it,” he states, bending over his suitcase. He fishes a pair of skinny jeans Victor bought him, grey and with a soft elastic band on the waist, and a printed, short-sleeved T-shirt. He will also wear his inseparable Russian Team jacket. He knows he probably shouldn’t wear it, since he has been disqualified from the championship and, in all likelihood, the national team as well, but he can’t bring himself to part from it.

 

Victor observes him getting dressed and smiles, seeing that Yuri has chosen the T-shirt with the print _“I’m making a human, what have you done today?”_ on the front in white big block capitals. He likes Yuri’s new obsession with T-shirts with ironic sentences about pregnancy. Since they went out shopping in Fukuoka, he has bought many others online, and seems to be having fun showing them off at every opportunity, challenging anyone who crosses his path in the streets or at Yu-topia to make a remark.

 

“I’m tired of running,” he adds, sinking his hands into the pockets of his jacket with a determined look.

 

Yuuri smiles at his reflection in the mirror while fixing Victor’s tie, who thanks him in return with a peck on his lips.

 

“Good. Let’s go then.”         

 

 

***

 

 

As expected, when they arrive at the rink there’s already a huge pack of journalists lined up at the entrance, like predators waiting for their prey.

 

“Are you ready?” Victor asks, hesitating.

 

Yuri breathes deeply, trying to relax his nerves. He’s making an effort to look strong and confident, yet the vice gripping on his stomach doesn’t want to leave him alone.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Victor slams the glass doors wide open, moving aside to let him in, a chivalrous gesture that would usually annoy Yuri but that now, given the circumstances, he deeply appreciates. He doesn’t want to have to take his hands out of his pockets, they’re trembling like crazy and anyone would notice. And the last thing he wants is to let the journalists see again the pathetic state he’s in.

Cameras start flashing wildly the moment they come in, and surround them in an instant. They press, stretching out their microphones, pushing the three of them against the doors. Shouts arise, it’s an unbearable hubbub. Yuri is barely able to keep his eyes open, but grits his teeth and steels himself. He stands his ground and straightens up, glaring boldly at the camera of the national Chinese TV in front of him.

 

“We will answer one question at a time!” Victor shouts at his side, trying to be heard above that sea of noises, his arms outstretched in an attempt to pacify the crowd, and at the same time to regain a minimum of personal space around them.

 

“Who’s the child’s father?!” is the first, obvious question, screamed shamelessly, and immediately followed by “Is it you, Mr Katsuki?”

 

“WHAT?!” Yuri cries, upset and unable to hold back. “How the fuck can you even think it’s him?!”

 

He feels Victor’s hand on his forearm, a clear sign of warning to behave and control his language, considering that they are likely being broadcast live worldwide.

 

“I’m the baby’s father,” Victor states a second later, his voice calm and firm, without hesitation, drawing everyone’s eyes to him. This causes an uproar, and cameras start flashing like crazy.

 

“What is your relationship with Yuri Plisetsky, Mr Katsuki?” another one asks, a man in his forties with small, cold eyes and the appearance of somebody willing to do anything to reach his goal.

 

“This is none of your business, please leave Yuuri out of this, he needs to concentrate on the competition that will take place shortly,” Victor answers without giving Yuuri the time to even open his mouth.

 

“Are you trying to protect him, Mr Nikiforov?” he insists, smelling the scoop of a lifetime that could lead him to success.

 

“It’s not that. I would have no reason to.”

 

“Were you aware Yuri is an omega?” another one shouts from the opposite side of the room, and Yuuri starts at the question, though he realises a second later that they are all referring to Yuri, not him. He heaves a sigh of relief and tries not to look too tense. They decided he would keep going towards the changing room once at the rink, to avoid being under the spotlight and compromising his secret, but the assault of the journalists has cut off any escape route, so the only thing he can do now is trying to keep calm and not get exposed too much.

 

“No, I wasn’t aware of it,” Victor answers quietly, keeping his composure with his peerless professionalism.

 

“So you didn’t want this pregnancy?”

 

“Considering your decision of coaching Mr Katsuki, can we surmise that you got Yuri Plisetsky pregnant with the purpose of getting rid of him as a potential opponent?” asks the same man from before, with unwavering determination, intentioned not to give up on that juicy opportunity.

 

“Of course not. Who would do such a thing?” and Victor’s mask of calmness cracks a little while pronouncing those words, annoyance inevitably starting to leak.

 

Somebody pushes through from the back, a microphone mounted on a pole comes flying atop their heads and Victor has to bend down to dodge it.

 

“How far along are you, Mr Plisetsky?”

 

“I’m twenty-one weeks pregnant,” Yuri announces, arching his back as to underline even more his round belly, almost like a challenging gesture, thus triggering another wave of flashes and questions.

 

“So the child was conceived before you came of age!”

 

“Wow, you do know how to count, impressive,” he replies sarcastically to that stupid statement that seems senseless.

 

“Do you think you could be accused of pedophilia, Mr Nikiforov?”

 

“You could go to jail for it, did you consider it?”

 

Yuri feels blood freezing in his veins. Of all the possibilities he has taken into account, that was the last accusation he would have thought of hearing against Victor.

 

“That’s bullshit! I’m not a fucking child! It was I who wanted it!” he snaps, enraged and worried at the same time. Could this really happen? Could somebody accuse Victor of getting him pregnant before he turned 18? He welcomes this new source of anxiety with an annoyed grunt, he’ll add it to the long list of things that have been depriving him of his sleep since he discovered he was expecting.

 

“So you did want this pregnancy?”

 

“What will become of your career? Will you skate again?”

 

“Of course I will,” he answers, sharp. “Next season I’ll kick everyone’s arse and win gold!”

 

Yuuri smiles at his side, admiring his strength. Twenty-four hours prior, they found him paralysed, with tears in his eyes in front of those very people, and now he’s answering back without fear, proudly showing off his belly bump.

 

“Do you think your coach will want you back, now that he knows you’re an omega?”

 

This question takes him by surprise, he doesn’t know what to answer. Despite all the rehearsals they did that evening, of all the possible questions and answers they have taken into account, that hasn’t even crossed his mind. Perhaps it’s because, since his departure from Russia, he has cut off any contact with Yakov. Perhaps it is because he hasn’t really thought about what to actually do after the baby is born.

 

“Even if he won’t, I’ll coach him personally,” Victor claims firmly, leaving everyone speechless, included the two boys at his side, who look at him, mouth agape and the same surprised expression on their face. Victor turns slightly to give them a small, reassuring smile, before receiving the next screamed question.

 

“And what if the sponsors won’t accept to support him?”

 

“We’ll manage on our own. As somebody once said to me, it’s not the first time something like this happens, but if there’s willpower, then it’s always possible to find a way to go on,” Victor answers, and Yuuri feels like losing the ground beneath his feet. He thought Victor forgot about it, since they hasn’t talked about this in a while. He really hoped, but he was clearly wrong.

 

“What do you mean?!”

 

“Whom are you talking about?!”

 

Questions resume, and in a matter of seconds it’s impossible to understand even a single word.

Victor raises a hand to silence them.

 

“Now, if you would excuse us, we need to get ready for the competition, we have already wasted precious minutes of warm-up.” Having said that, he places a hand on the back of his partners and drives them away, ignoring the protests of the journalists who rush after them through the hall. Victor opens the door to the corridor that connects the hall to the changing room and pushes them forward. He then turns to the journalists and regales them with a radiant smile and an overly cheesy _thank you,_ before slamming the door shut in their faces.

He leans against it for a second, taking a deep breath of relief. The excited voices can still be heard, they are likely to go and ask acquaintances or anyone who has connections with them for more news. Perhaps even the nice lady at the reception of their hotel. She might even be happy about it. Having the chance to appear on television, and talk about her meeting with the great Victor Nikiforov at the same time, what could be better than that?

 

“Well… It’s done,” Victor states, running a hand through his silver hair, before detaching himself from the wall to join them.

 

“You should have let me do the talking,” Yuri scolds him, only vaguely annoyed. Truth be told, he was satisfied with the way Victor has handled the interview, without the slightest embarrassment while announcing he was the child’s father.

 

“If I had, you would have probably strangled him,” he replies, and Yuuri chuckles at his side, he can totally see it happening.

 

“What are _you_ laughing at?” Yuri snaps, folding his arms.

 

“Nothing.” Yuuri gets closer and leaves a peck on his temple, just like he has seen Victor doing dozens of times, amazed by his own boldness. “I admire how brave you’ve been. I don’t think I would have made it.”

 

Yuri huffs, cheeks slightly dusted red. “Of course you would have made it,” he mutters, more embarrassed to admit such a thing than he was while standing in front of the cameras to reveal his pregnancy to the world. “But I don’t understand how on earth they could have thought you were the father!” he says, trying to change topic.

 

“I think it’s because of the way Yuuri came to your rescue yesterday,” Victor replies, pensive. “And I have a feeling it won’t be easy to silence that rumour. Even though they agreed not to publish yesterday’s retake till the interview, there’s no guarantee that they won’t now.”

 

“Fuck,” Yuri snaps, and Yuuri is hurt by that reaction. He knows he shouldn’t be, as it is absolutely understandable, but it still pains him to see how much this bothers him.

 

“In the end, it’s not that bad. It means they assumed Yuuri is an alpha, since nobody knows about his secondary gender, which is good,” Victor states, lost in thought. His theory does make sense, and Yuuri feels a bit relieved, as he was still tense after the interview.

 

“Ridiculous. As if he could ever look like an alpha,” Yuri mumbles. “A beta perhaps, but definitely not an alpha.”

 

“How so? I thought he was, before discovering the truth,” Victor replies naїvely, leaving them both speechless.

 

“What? Really?” they say in unison, both surprised, but for different reasons.

 

“Come on, don’t make me laugh! How could he be an alpha? Look at him!” Yuri exclaims widening his arms and pointing at Yuuri, who, for once, agrees with him. He certainly doesn’t have the good looks, the aura nor the charm of an alpha. But on the other hand, he doesn’t look like the “classic omega” either. He’s not androgynous like Yuri, his body is not graceful nor does he have long limbs, his traits are too masculine to be deemed beautiful. A factor that has helped him easily hide his secret for years, but that at the same time has made him deeply insecure.

 

“You can’t judge a person’s gender by their appearance only, Yuri. Not all alphas are tall, muscular and dominant. Not all omegas are feminine, delicate and inclined to be subdued,” Victor explains patiently. “When I was young, before coming out as an alpha, everyone was certain I was an omega because of my long hair and my looks. Nobody had ever doubted it for a second. And I can’t say I didn’t play with the situation, letting them believe what they wanted, but the truth is different. So yes, I thought Yuuri was an alpha. When I came to Yu-Topia, discovering he wasn’t was a wonderful surprise,” he whispers, smiling at him lovingly.

 

Yuri cringes at his cheesy expression.

 

“Yes, fine, as you like. Everything’s marvellous. But we’re wasting time, and piggy here needs to warm up, otherwise he’ll suck just like yesterday,” he snaps, and Yuuri feels guilty for the poor impression he made the other day, and with him Victor, as his coach.

 

“You’re right, and we can’t afford this,” Victor answers, pushing Yuuri towards the changing room. He reaches out to open the door but somebody anticipates him, flinging it open from the inside, hitting him in the face.

 

“Ouch!” Victor reels covering his nose with a hand while the culprit hastens to get out and apologise.

 

Phichit’s expression shifts from moderately sorry to completely mortified as he realises he has just hit Victor Nikiforov in the face with a door.

 

“Ohmygod! I’m so sorry!!” he shouts, bending over him to make sure he hasn’t caused any irreparable damage to his gorgeous face, but, as soon as his fingers touch Victor’s back, Yuri’s growl makes him spin around in surprise.

His eyes dart from Yuri’s face to his belly, to the print on his T-shirt, and then settle again on his face.

 

“Yuri Plisetsky,” he mutters with the same tone used a few nights before, upon seeing him for the first time after months.

 

“Congrats, Sherlock. You know my name,” Yuri scoffs, his blazing eyes drilling into Phichit’s.

 

“I didn’t do it on purpose, I swear,” he adds, and it’s not clear if he’s apologising for hitting Victor or for touching him in an attempt to help him, but he sure as hell feels the need of begging for forgiveness under the murderous glare Yuri is giving him.

 

“I hope so,” Yuri hisses in response, grasping Victor’s hand with the intention of dragging him away. “Out of the way,” he barks, and Phichit literally jumps back, leaving him free access to the changing room, into which he disappears with Victor.

 

Silence falls in the corridor as Phichit tries to figure out what has just happened.

It’s Yuuri’s movement at his side that brings him back from his thoughts. Yuuri’s going for the door, head hung low, trying, hoping to pass without being noticed. But it’s impossible, of course.

 

“Yuuri,” Phichit calls him, and Yuuri hears a tinge of sadness in his voice that makes him stop, though without saying anything, and seconds become minutes, tension stretching between them, unbearable.

 

“How… How are you?” Phichit asks hesitantly.

 

“I’m good,” Yuuri murmurs, it’s evident things between them are not what they used to be anymore, but Phichit is not willing to let him go, to lose his best friend for a misunderstanding.

 

“So… Yuri Plisetsky, huh?” he asks in a casual tone, rocking on the spot, hands in his pockets, trying to sound friendly as usual. Yuuri shrugs.

 

“Wow,” he comments, “Really?”

 

“Yeah, really, okay?!” Yuuri snaps, unable to hold back after everything that has happened. “And it’s not because he’s pregnant or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking! He’s not Yuuko.”

 

“Hey, hey, chill!” he reassures. “I wasn’t referring to that, I swear. Even though…”

 

Yuuri gives him a withering look, and he bites the last words back, silence setting again between them.

 

“Are you happy?” he asks abruptly, a serious tone in his voice.

 

And Yuuri doesn’t need to think twice to answer.

 

“Yes.”

 

Phichit smiles.

 

“Then I’m happy for you”. He gets one step closer to lay a hand on his shoulder, and this time Yuuri doesn’t back off. “I’m sorry I reacted poorly last evening, I mean it. But I was worried for you, Yuuri, try to understand.”

 

He’s trying to meet his gaze with regretful eyes, full of affection and worry, and Yuuri feels extremely guilty for being mad at him.

 

“I know,” he whispers.

 

“I should have listened to you instead of jumping to conclusions, but after what happened in the past…”

 

“I know, Phichit. You don’t have to apologise, you had every reason to act that way. Even though it hurt hearing you say those things,” he reassures him.

 

“I’m so, so sorry. God, I’ve been such a fool! And it’s my fault you messed up on the ice yesterday, isn’t it?” Phichit asks him, and there’s an expression painted on his face akin to that of a guilty puppy, a puppy that knows he has messed up big time.

 

Yuuri sighs. “A bit, yeah,” he admits.

 

“I knew it… God, I’ve felt so bad for the whole time! I swear!”

 

“It’s not your fault. It would have happened sooner or later, I think. You just opened my eyes. In the worst way possible, sure, but… at least I now know I’m doing the right thing, I took the right decision and this is what I want,” Yuuri says with confidence, surprising him.

 

“If you’re sure and you’re happy about it, then it’s fine, you know I’ll always support you.”

 

“Thank you,” Yuuri smiles, and Phichit returns the smile fondly, before a strange expression settles on his face, as if he was fighting an inner battle against himself.

 

“Sorry, but I really have to ask: how do you even put up with… ?!” he snaps at the end.

 

“What?” Yuuri asks, fearing Phichit is referring again to the fact that he ended up in a polygamous relationship, or the fact that he has to share Victor with someone else. Either way, he knows he probably wouldn’t react positively this time.

 

“Yuri Plisetsky!! He gives me the chills!”

 

Yuuri stares at him for a second, speechless, before bursting into laughter.

 

“I’m not joking! I thought he was going to incinerate me with his glare before! He looked like a fucking Jedi out of a Star Wars film!” he says, making Yuuri laugh even more.

 

“Oh my God, Phichit! I’m going to tell him, I warn you!”

 

“Please, don’t! I’d rather stay alive!”

 

Yuuri chuckles, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

 

“He’s not that bad, you know? When you get to know him,” he says when his laughter finally fades out. “There’s so much more than what meets the eye… And when you manage to go beyond the mask he wears to protect himself from the world, you can’t help but be drawn to him, want to know more, find out every tiny detail about him, and protect him from everyone and everything,” he murmurs, absently staring at a fixed point beyond Phichit’s shoulder, then blushes furiously as soon as he realises what he’s just said.

 

“Someone here is really smitten,” teases Phichit with a sly smile on his lips, embarrassing him, if possible, even more. “And you even have the same name! How romantic!” he chirps like a high school girl, and sings _“first comes love, then comes marriage! Then comes…”_

“Phichit!!” Yuuri yells, his face now beet red, pouncing on him to put a hand over his mouth, anxiously looking around in hope that nobody has heard them. But there’s no-one, except for…

 

“Victor!” His name comes out with a strangled squeal that makes Phichit burst out laughing, reminding him he’s still holding his hand over his mouth.

 

“How much longer are you going to play?” Victor asks harshly, and Yuuri quickly steps away, ashamed. “We’re already awfully late for the warm-up, God only knows how much you need it.”

 

“I’m coming. Sorry,” he stutters as he jogs towards him, his head down. He throws one last glance at Phichit, who winks, before disappearing past the locker room’s door. He hurriedly takes his shoes off, slipping his feet into the skates, tying them up as fast as he can.

 

Victor is waiting for him next to the door, jaw set and arms folded, while beside him Yuri is manically scrolling down the last news on his phone.

 

“I’m really sorry,” Yuuri apologises again, slipping the skate guards on, then he gets up and joins them. Victor doesn’t answer, making him feel even worse. He knows he needs every possible second of practice, considering his last performance, and seeing Victor so angry because of that is killing him.

 

“I hate it!” Victor snaps just as Yuuri’s heading towards the rink, head still down.

 

“What?” asks Yuuri, turning around with a jerk. “Phichit?”

 

“Yes! No!” Victor sighs in frustration. “I hate this whole situation! I hate seeing other people touch you and not being able to do anything about it!” he says. The night they arrived, he felt the same way, too, seeing Phichit hug Yuuri in such a carefree manner, like it was natural, like he had the right to do that, while he couldn’t say anything, couldn’t claim Yuuri for himself.

 

“You are… jealous of Phichit?” Yuuri whispers, upset at the idea that Victor, the great Victor Nikiforov, could have reason to be jealous of him.

 

“Of course I am! How could I not be, with a stranger touching you like that, in front of me!” Victor yells, and Yuuri’s lips can’t but stretch into a smile. That may not be a love declaration, but it’s the closest Victor ever got to it, and it makes his stomach tingle. Victor is jealous of him.

 

“Phichit is not a stranger, we’ve been friends forever!” he explains. “We slept together countless times when we were…”

 

The growl escaping Victor’s throat is a clear sign he’s said the wrongest possible thing.

 

“You’re so fucking dumb,” Yuri comments, lifting his eyes from his phone ever so slightly to offer him a commiserating look.

 

“Okay, okay, wrong example! But we’re just friends! Really!” Yuuri desperately tries.

 

“Has he ever touched you?” Victor snarls stepping closer, and he shakes, his heart suddenly speeding up in his chest.

 

“No,” he replies, unable to look away from Victor’s sky-blue eyes. “We’re just friends, I promise,” he whispers, omitting to mention the little experiences he shared with his roommate back in Detroit, hoping that Victor won’t be able to see through his lie.

 

Victor scrutinises him for a long, infinite minute before sighing and holding him tight in his arms. “I hate all of this!” he repeats frustrated, and Yuuri smiles, relaxing. He reaches up to caress his hair in a comforting gesture.

 

“We keep wasting time, you know?” he points out sweetly, and Victor emits a whining sound.

 

“I know,” he says, not letting him go.

 

“The warm-up…”

 

“I know.”

 

“The warm-up is pretty much over,” Yuri flatly cuts in, his eyes not leaving the screen as he keeps absently scrolling down his Facebook feed.

 

“WHAT?!” Yuuri screeches, grabbing Victor’s wrist to check his watch. “Fuck! It’s bloody late! The competition must have started already! We’ve missed the warm-up!!”

 

“It can’t be!” Victor exclaims, checking the time as well. “Shit! Stretching! NOW!”

 

They spend the following twenty minutes trying to do as much as they can, and then again in the corridor, headed to the rink, but they don’t go very far before they have to stop yet again.

 

“What a pretty picture.” Yakov is shuffling towards them, his eyes as hard as his voice. Looking at him, Yuuri wonders how that man can have been a great skater once. At any rate, nothing is now left of the athlete he was. All Yuuri can see is the old, slimy pervert who tried to get his hands on young, innocent and naïve Yuri Plisetsky, taking advantage of his confusion during his first heat periods. And he cannot repress the surge of hatred burning through him from the bottom of his heart.

 

“Yakov.” Victor says his name as though it were a curse, and Yuuri can feel tension build up in his body. “What do you want?”

 

“I’ve come to personally congratulate you, since you decided to ignore all my phone calls,” Yakov replies, glancing at Yuri, and Victor’s jaw tightens. “Great performance out there, Yurochka. It almost looked like you’re happy, like you wanted this.”

 

“He is! Nobody forced him,” Victor growls, his hands balled up into fists, the effort of restraining himself evident on his face.

 

“Tell me, Victor, wasn’t fucking up your own career to go and play coach enough for you? Did you have to screw his, too?”

 

“This isn’t going to ruin his career.”

 

“It is!” barks Yakov, whose anger is starting to seep out as his neck reddens with the struggle of controlling himself. “You should have aborted! Nobody would have known, and your career would’ve been safe!”

 

“This decision is not up to you, Yakov. It’s never been any of your business,” says Victor through gritted teeth.

 

“It has! I’ve wasted years to train him, to turn him into a champion! Everything you are you owe to me!” He turns and faces Yuri with rage flashing in his eyes. “And now you’ve dug your own grave! Nobody’s going to sponsor you, and you know why? Because you’re an omega! And omegas are like beasts, slaves to their own instincts! Who would ever invest money on someone who spends a whole week every three months getting themselves fucked senseless?”

 

“I never did anything of the sort!” Yuri shouts, yet he knows he’s lying. He knows that perfectly. In spite of never having truly been in heat, he’s spent whole days holed up in Victor’s apartment, getting screwed until he couldn’t even stand on his legs.

 

“Oh, you did,” Yakov hisses, malicious. “You carry the clear evidence of it under that shirt,” he adds, hinting at his prominent belly, the indelible proof of his blame. Yuri steps back and hunches his shoulder, as if Yakov had physically hit him.

 

“STOP IT NOW!” Yuuri’s voice startles everyone. “What gives you the right to say such things?! What gives you the right to talk about him and his private life?! You know nothing, NOTHING!” he snarls, striding towards Yakov as though he wants to strike him—and he does want to—but Victor grabs him from behind, holding him before he does something he might regret later. A brawl with a coach just before a competition isn’t the best of ideas. Especially if they want to keep his involvement in the whole situation a secret.

 

Victor sees a spark in Yakov’s eyes, which shift from him to Yuuri and then to Yuri, and he understands that now it’s too late. Yakov is not a fool, and has probably already sniffed out their secret. He likely figured it out a while ago, and this was simply the confirmation he needed.

 

“Oh, don’t tell me,” Yakov hisses, a sarcastic smile stretching his lips in a grotesque way.

 

“Yakov,” Victor warns through gritted teeth.

 

“What a surprise. One was not enough, Yuri? Are you so perverted you need two alphas to satisfy you?” he spits, leaving the three of them speechless.

 

“You’re wrong!” Yuri tries to defend himself, but his voice sounds uncertain, he cannot face those accusations. He cannot lie. Despite Yuuri not being an alpha, he cannot deny that his body lusts after him as much as for Victor. Although he refuses to admit it, even to himself.

 

“I think not,” Yakov insists. “Tell me, has he already marked you? He hasn’t, has he. And how are you going to do that? They can’t both do it, can they. Perhaps you’re so corrupted you can endure a bond with two alphas?”

 

“You don’t fucking get it, Yakov!” Yuri snaps, regretting those words the moment they leave his lips. As hard as it is to bear those insults, he’s willing to do that if it means protecting Yuuri. The last thing he wants is to ruin his life and career as well, revealing his secondary gender to that man. Yakov would likely not hesitate one second to use it against them.

 

“You say so?” Yakov reaches out to grasp his chin. “You can show off that angelic face of yours and pretend you're a goody-two-shoes all you like, but I know the truth, I know what you are,” he hisses leaning over him, and the memories Yuri tried to bury deep down inside of him come to the surface with a vengeance, making him feel dirty.

 

“DON'T TOUCH HIM!” Yuuri snarls furiously, trying to wiggle free from Victor's hold, who's fighting a fierce battle not to let Yuuri go and hurl himself at Yakov as well.

 

Yakov turns around to stare at him, an indecipherable expression on his face. “You're ridiculous. All of you,” he says letting go of Yuri, who draws back with his head down.

 

“Fuck off!” Victor hisses through his teeth, tightening his grasp on Yuuri’s shoulders, and Yakov takes a step back, as though following his order, but he stops to address Yuri one last time.

 

“You’ll regret this, you’ll see,” he spits. “Mark my words!” he adds, before moving past them and disappearing in the corridor.

 

Yuri watches him walk away, his fists buried deep in his pockets. “That old man…” he says, in a tentatively scornful tone, but his voice cracks.

 

“Don’t mind him!” exclaims Yuuri, wiggling out of Victor’s hold to pull Yuri into an embrace, still shaking with rage. “What he said is not true! Any of it! You’re not like that! And your career is not ruined! You’ll go back to skating and we’ll find sponsors. Everything will be alright!” he tries to comfort him, even though he knows he’s likely just lying to them both, trying to sugarcoat that reality all too bitter. The things Yakov said are all true, from beginning to end. He experienced it on his own skin and knows, perfectly knows, that now Yuri will have to go through the same ordeal, only he will have no way out of it. And perhaps that’s what hurts the most.

 

“I know,” Yuri mutters, his face buried in Yuuri’s chest. He pulls back to look at him in the eye. “Um… Thank you for defending me,” he murmurs, before averting his eyes, embarrassed, and Yuuri feels his heart swell with affection for him. He draws Yuri to himself again, holding him tight in his arms.

 

“Don’t mention it,” he whispers against his hair.

 

“We need to be more careful, he almost figured out the truth,” Victor murmurs behind them, as if he hasn’t even heard their conversation, grabbing their attention.

 

Yuuri sighs. “I know.”

 

“You too, Yuri…”

 

“No, it wasn’t his fault! He did nothing wrong,” Yuuri says quickly, holding him against his chest rather protectively, and Victor sighs in resignation.

 

“Alright, anyway we need to go now. There’s probably only a few minutes left to your turn,” Victor urges, and his voice sounds tired, far away. Yuuri lingers another second, but he eventually has to let go of Yuri.

 

“I’ll be on the stands,” Yuri blurts, trying to shake off the awkwardness that hug left in him, together with the warmth in his chest. Victor nods without even asking him if he wants to join him at the rinkside, which is rather odd. But Yakov’s words shook him to the core, and, just like last time, he’s struggling to take them off his mind to focus on the current situation.

 

They split up at the end of the corridor, where they take different directions, Yuri to the right towards the steps leading to the seats, and the others to the left, headed to the rink. But before turning the corner, Yuri stops and turns his head.

 

“Hey, Katsudon!” he calls, and Yuuri turns around, confused. “DAVAI!” Yuri yells, his cheeks flushed, then runs away, too embarrassed to wait for his reply.

 

Yuuri’s heart skips a beat, that’s the first time Yuri wishes him good luck, spurring him on to victory, encouraging him to do his best.

So when his turn comes, his stomach is upside down and his hands are sweating with excitement, but he’s never felt lighter before a competition.

He doesn’t wait for Victor to say his usual reassuring words, he doesn’t need them, not that day. He skates to the centre of the rink and lowers his head, waiting for the music to begin. The first notes of _“Yuri on Ice”_ drift through the air, sweet and melodious. He had that piece composed to represent his artistic career, when he realised no song would be able to convey his emotions and all he’s been through to get to that point.

He takes a deep breath and glides on the ice smoothly, following the tune, his mind free of any worry. Victor and Yuri are there, watching him, they’re there for him, and all he can do is his best, to win and show his feelings in the only way he knows.

The first jump combination is a quadruple toe loop followed by a double toe loop. It represents the beginning of his career, the struggle to make his way in that merciless world, his failures, his falls, his defeats. It’s rough and raw, as he was at that time, but he faces it with his head held high, with self-confidence. Now he’s no longer afraid, he’s not turning back ever again.

 

“Perfect execution!” says the commentator, and the crowd cheers loudly, but Yuuri hardly hears it. “Surely Katsuki is giving us a completely different show than yesterday.”

 

And he _feels_ completely different. Now he knows what he wants.

He gets ready for the second jump, a quadruple salchow. The advent of Victor in his life, the surprise upon discovering he was to become his coach, the joy in seeing his biggest dream come true.

 

“Oh, he did it!”

 

He gracefully glides into the step sequence, his heart beating fast, his breath short.

 

“His theme for this season is _love_.”

 

“Katsuki Yuuri made an emphatic statement at the press conference, declaring he has found what love is, and he wants to show it by winning gold in this Grand Prix.”

He presses the blade into the ice and performs a perfect triple loop.

The music slows down, a string of sweet, delicate notes accompanying his spread eagle, his discovery of love, not only platonic, but also sexual and mutual, hot and deep. A smile blooms on his lips. He’s never managed to convey it with words, and neither had Victor, but it doesn’t mean that it’s not what they both feels.

 

_Victor loves me. And I love him._

“And now his favourite, the triple axel.”

 

He jumps, but slightly over-rotates and touches down, a small mistake that will lose him a few points, but is not so serious as to cost him his victory.

“Coming next is a triple axel, single loop, triple salchow combination.”

 

He smiles, thinking of Yuri’s first arrival to Japan, when he tried to take Victor with him back to Russia. The draining training Victor put them through to make them realise their inner Eros and Agape, Yuri’s continual insults and challenges, and the first time he truly saw him, when at the waterfall Yuri dropped his mask for a second, that mask he wears all the time to protect himself from the cruel world, and Yuuri was able to glimpse his fragility, his uncertainty, and also his beauty.

 

“A triple lutz, triple toe loop combination!”

 

“Even in the second half he’s not showing any sign of fatigue, really incredible!”

 

The quadruple toe loop. He smiles, thinking of the day he found the courage to ask Yuri to teach him the quads, and he accepted. He casts a glance towards the stands, it’s impossible to find him in that crowd, but Yuuri hopes that he’s looking, that he’s proud of him.

 

_I’m doing this for you. Because I want to become stronger! To protect you, so that nobody will ever hurt you again!_

 

“He’s planned a quadruple toe loop for his final jump,” the voice explains, following the outline he was given that morning.

 

_There it is._

 

This is what he’s been awaiting—and fearing—during the whole free programme. He feels the tension in his stomach as he picks into the ice with his right foot instead of the left. He pushes, the ice creaking under his feet as he jumps.

 

_This is what I want. Now I’m sure of it. I won’t let anyone decide for me what’s right or wrong ever again!_

 

Four complete, perfect rotations, but he’s too fast on the landing and touches the ice with both hands.

 

“B-But that was a quadruple flip!” exclaims the commentator, as the crowd cheers loudly from the stands.

 

_I did it!_

 

Blood is rushing in his ears, his heart is racing in his chest. He may not be able to express his feeling with words, but he’s put his heart and soul into that performance, shouting his love with his body.

He beams as he goes through the last steps, gracefully approaching the end of the programme.

 

“The quadruple flip was a signature move of Victor Nikiforov, his coach.”

 

“True, but not even Nikiforov ever did a jump this difficult at the end of a programme, when fatigue would be at its peak. Here’s a man who’ll go above and beyond our expectations, KATSUKI YUURI!”

 

The crowd roars enthusiastic in the stands, but he barely hears it while he bows for the customary greetings. His heart is hammering in his chest as he surveys the public, looking for Yuri, but without his glasses, the crowd is just a blurred jumble of faceless shapes and colours. He wishes Yuri had decided to go with them instead of sitting there. He turns around, his eyes searching for Victor now. He sees him beyond the barrier, running towards the gate, but he can’t say whether he’s happy or not for that last-minute change, for that decision Yuuri made of his own volition, without even consulting him. He hopes this is not the case, he couldn’t bear disappointing him, not in that moment when _he_ feels perfectly happy. But then Victor stops, his arms wide open in a clear invitation, just like at the Japanese Championship, and Yuuri feels tears well up in his eyes. He jabs the blade into the ice to propel himself towards Victor, ignoring the burning pain in his muscles. He wants to hug him, bury his face into Victor’s chest and feel his arms lovingly envelope him, and then go and look for Yuri, and spend the rest of the day with them. The rest of his _life_ with them.

 

“I did great, right?” he asks stupidly, merely for the cameras focussing on them for the after-performance reactions. But Victor doesn’t answer, ignores his question and throws himself at him as soon as he’s within reach. The next moment, Yuuri feels Victor’s lips on his as they fall back onto the ice, and cameras broadcast the scene worldwide.

 

“This was the only thing I could think of to surprise you more than you’ve surprised me,” Victor murmurs, pulling away just enough to whisper those words on Yuuri’s lips.

 

“I love you too, Yuuri,” he adds, eyes boring into Yuuri’s, leaving him breathless.

 

Tears flood Yuuri’s eyes and he feels a lump in his throat, and, heedless of the cameras, the photographers, and the repercussions all that could have on his career, he wraps his arms around Victor’s neck, pulling him into a hug, burying his face into his neck as tears stream down his cheeks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the stands, Yuri stares at them gaping, his stomach clutched in a painful grip and Yakov’s words resounding in his ears.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go!! The so long waited kiss! How will Yuri react?


	18. Chapter 18

Yuri exits the venue and runs out in the street, his heart hammering in his chest and countless questions swirling in his mind.

 

Why? Why did he do that? Why?

 

He blindly crosses the road, red light glowing on his golden hair. A car slams on the brakes a few centimetres from his legs, the driver irately cursing at him.

 

He doesn’t stop.

 

He knows he’s not supposed to run, the weight of his belly tilting his balance forwards, and he’s out of breath after barely half a block. Tears sting in his eyes, and lactic acid is burning in his legs as his muscles try to cope with the sudden effort after such a long rest period. When the pain becomes unbearable and his legs feel as heavy as lead, he drags himself into a side alley and collapses against the wall.

 

He coughs, his lungs in flame, his whole body shaking from the exertion.

 

Why? Why would Victor do such a thing? Why did he kiss _him_ , on national TV, only a few hours after releasing an interview in which he acknowledged paternity of Yuri’s child? After telling him to be cautious to avoid revealing Yuuri’s secret?

 

Why?

 

He lets himself slide down the wall, until he’s sitting crouched on the ground, his forehead against his knees, trying to catch his breath.

 

Jealousy is worming its way to his chest.

 

In spite of all his efforts, despite trying in every way to win Victor over, he’s always going to come second in his heart, and that knowledge is destroying him. During the interview, Victor didn’t do anything at all, didn’t stay close to him, didn’t touch him, didn’t try to kiss him in the slightest, and scolded him for being too impulsive with Yakov, and then...

 

The stinging of tears comes back with a vengeance. He looks around, he has no idea where he is. He’s run without a direction, and now he’s lost. He bites the inside of his cheek. He needs to find a way to go back to the hotel, but the mere thought makes his stomach churn. He doesn’t want to see Victor. And he doesn’t want to see Yuuri, either.

 

Steps resound on his left, in the dimness at the end of the alley. He lifts his face to stare into the darkness, it’s hard to see anything among dumpsters and cardboard piled up along the wall—likely used by homeless people as a night shelter—but a voice calls him, and after focussing for a few seconds he makes out a slender figure unsteadily walking in his direction. He instinctively jumps onto his feet, cold adrenaline rushing in his blood, preparing him to fight or flee. The man shuffles closer, he’s wearing an elegant suit, dark patent leather shoes reflecting the light of the lampposts as he staggers towards him. His gaze is vacant, his nose red, his shirt is half-in, half-out his dark trousers, his loose tie hanging lazily from his neck, swinging at every step. Probably a businessman in town for some meeting, or a manager looking for diversion in Beijing’s infamous streets after a long workday.

 

Yuri steps back in the alley, his wide eyes fixed on the man, who’s almost on him. He takes a deep breath, getting ready to run, and the man’s thick, musky smell fills his mouth. Yuri’s knees buckle as he inhales his alpha scent, so strong it overpowers even the stink of alcohol coming from his body. And he immediately knows that the man can smell him, too, and he deeply regrets not using any masking soaps, like both Victor and Yuuri do daily. Now that he’s pregnant he shouldn’t need them, as his pheromones are supposed to reflect his condition, making it clear to any possible suitor that he’s no longer available. He’s always known that some alphas seem to be particularly attracted to pregnant omegas, but since they constitute a very small part of the population, they’re rare enough not to be considered a threat. Surely, he’d never thought he’d meet one, but when he sees the man taking a deep breath, his eyes half-closed and his eyelids quivering with excitement, he knows he was wrong. Yuri can see the depraved desire in the man’s eyes as he purposefully steps closer, a low growl of sheer lust escaping his lips.

 

“Stay away from me,” he cries in a desperate attempt at sounding intimidating, but his body is shaking, overwhelmed by the intensity of the pheromones of the alpha standing in front of him, and his legs feel like glued to the asphalt beneath his feet. The main road is but a few steps away, it would take so little, but he can’t move, he can’t run away. A part of his instinct is screaming at him to flee to protect the life inside of him; another, stronger, is telling him to submit to that unknown alpha, give himself entirely to him, let himself be possessed and marked.

 

The man bends over him, propping himself against the wall to avoid falling, muttering something in Chinese, but in spite of being slurred, his words sound firm, like commands, and Yuri feels his groin squirming with excitement, and he hates himself for that. The man smirks, running a finger along his neck.

 

The smell of his pheromones is so dense it’s suffocating. Yuri tries to hold his breath, but it’s impossible, and each inhalation is a new wave of that heady scent that leaves him dizzy and defenceless.

 

The hand slides towards his chin to grab it, he dreads that the man wants to kiss him, but the pressure on his jaw forces him to turn his head, exposing the nape of his neck. Fear makes his stomach clench, but at the same time a part of him is shivering in anticipation for what’s about to happen.

 

Yuri feels the man’s breath on his neck and shudders, and with that tiny amount of willpower still left in him he slaps his hands onto his chest and tries to push him away, making him burst into laughter.

 

The alpha staggers for a moment, then violently pushes him against the wall, putting an end to any further attempt to escape. He leans down over his neck again, but the screech of brakes coming from the entrance of the alley makes him start, and he lifts his head just before sinking his teeth in. Yuri gasps when a motorbike stops mere centimetres from them, leaving him breathless. The driver barks something at him in a harsh language similar to Russian—which however Yuri isn’t able to recognise—then lifts the visor of his helmet.

 

“Otabek! Otabek Altin!” Yuri says, a spark of hope igniting in his chest. He doesn’t actually know him, if not for his reputation as the “Hero of Kazakhstan”, but surely he cannot be worse than the man currently pinning him against the wall. He acts on instinct. He reaches his hand out to him in a silent plea for help, and Otabek promptly grabs it, hoisting him onto the seat behind him, taking advantage of the man’s confusion, who, in his drunkenness can hardly act swiftly.

 

In the blink of an eye, Yuri find himself sitting behind him, arms wrapped around his chest, belly pressing against his back, face buried in his leather jacket. Otabek quickly hands him a helmet, while the alpha in front of them snaps out of his sluggishness, cussing, clearly not willing to let his prey slip away so easily. But Otabek is just as determined to bring Yuri to safety. He twists the handlebar, revving up the motor with a loud rumble, and the man jumps back, clearing the way. Otabek needs nothing else. He takes the alley at full speed, shooting amongst dumpsters and cardboard boxes until they come out on the other side into the Beijing traffic.

 

 

***

 

 

“Did you find him?” asks Victor worriedly, after checking for the third time the perimeter of the venue.

 

“No… Do you think he might have gone back to the hotel on his own?” Yuuri answers, anxiety dulling his senses and leaving him stunned.

 

“I don’t know… Why would he?” Victor is really starting to feel fear gnawing at his stomach, and has an unpleasant sense of foreboding. The last time he left Yuri unsupervised, he got hurt at Ice Castle and risked losing the baby. He doesn’t dare to think what might have happened to him there, at night, in a foreign, unfamiliar city, known for its underworld.

 

“Okay, how about this: I’ll go and look at the hotel, and you’ll check the surroundings,” says Yuuri curtly. Standing there doing nothing seems like a huge waste of time to him. He needs to find Yuri, and he needs to do it now.

 

“All right.”

 

“If you find him, call me at once.”

 

Victor nods, and Yuuri runs outside, towards the hotel only a short distance from there, while Victor rushes out in the street.

 

 

***

 

 

Yuri watches the road speeding around him in a string of neon lights and hoardings. The wind lashes against his face, freeing him from the intoxicating scent of the alpha’s pheromones. He still can’t come to terms with the way his body reacted to his presence. He’d never been that vulnerable to someone else’s scent. But maybe, he muses, it’s just due to the suppressants he’s no longer taking.

 

He buries his face against Otabek’s back, his jacket smells like aged leather and almond. He looks at the road absentmindedly. Otabek drives with confidence, zigzagging amongst the cars in the chaotic evening traffic of the city, and Yuri relies on him, not even noticing where Otabek’s taking him, still shaken by the experience he’s just gone through—until he recognises the street he ran along while fleeing the ice rink.

 

“No! Not there!” he screams, trying to talk over the whistle of the wind.

 

“Aren’t you staying there with the other skaters?” Otabek yells in reply, slightly turning his head towards him.

 

“I don’t want to go back!”

 

There’s a moment’s silence before the answer: “Where do you want to go?”

 

“Anywhere! Anywhere but there!”

 

And so, at the next intersection, instead of going straight ahead Otabek turns right, heading towards the heart of the city without asking for further explanation, and Yuri relaxes behind him. He’s being reckless, he knows that. Otabek could be a threat as much as that man, as far as he knows. But he’s too shocked to think rationally, and too upset by Victor and Yuuri’s kiss to want to go back to them.

 

For the following ten minutes, Otabek seems to be taking random turns, then he stops in an unremarkable street with one single bar. Its lights are on, and the faded sign over the door is missing a letter. He turns off the engine and kicks down the stand, then gets off and takes off the helmet.

 

“Where are we?” Yuri asks him, still perched on the seat, eyeing that miserable-looking place.

 

“Just a bar I found yesterday. Nothing special,” Otabek answers, putting the helmet away and waiting for Yuri to join him.

 

“Are you going to get off or not?”

 

Flinching, Yuri hurries to slide off the bike. He doesn’t like the way Otabek talks to him, it makes him feel uneasy. He can feel his piercing eyes on him, and blushes.

 

“The fuck are you looking at?” he snaps in annoyance, sending him an icy look that seems to have no effect at all.

 

“The helmet. Are you going to take it off?”

 

Cheeks aflame, Yuri quickly unfastens the strap under his chin and places the helmet on the seat, hoping nobody will get any ideas about stealing it. But the street seems empty, so he hopes he won’t have to regret his choice later and end up having to buy a new one.

 

Otabek goes in first, not showing the least intention of keeping the door open for him, like Victor does every time they go somewhere—or JJ, for the mere sake of pissing him off.

 

One point for Otabek.

 

The place is small, though not so much as to feel cramped, at least not after experiencing bars in Japan. 

A dozen tables at most are placed along the walls, the counter on the other side is sitting next to the saloon doors that give onto the kitchen, from where wafts a vague smell of fried food mixed with spices and roasted meat. There aren’t many patrons, and none seem to pay attention to them as they settle down at a table a little apart from the others.

 

“What are you taking?”

 

The question forces his attention back on Otabek.

 

“Same as you,” he blurts, not knowing what to say, wondering why on earth he’s put himself in that situation—drinking in a bar with a stranger who, as far as he knows, might want to kill him to rid himself of a competitor. It would be so easy to make his body disappear by throwing it in a random trench somewhere, probably nobody there would pay much attention to it anyway. He swallows hard at the thought, hoping he’s wrong. If this happened, Yuri is sure Victor would find a way to bring him back to life, only to murder him with his own hands. His trail of thought drifts to his partner, who’s now probably looking for him everywhere, together with Yuuri, and he already knows he’s in for the worst scolding of his life when he comes back.

_If he comes back._

He throws a careful glance at Otabek, and hopes that trusting him wasn’t a bad idea after all.

 

“Two mango juices,” Otabek says when the manager comes to get their order. The man looks tired, his face covered in wrinkles and sweat, and he doesn’t give them a second glance as he jots the order down before resuming his position behind the counter.

 

“Mango juice?” Yuri asks, arching a mocking eyebrow.

 

“It’s good for the baby,” Otabek replies, nodding in the direction of Yuri’s belly without so much of a change in his stoic expression, and Yuri blushes. For a second, for a split second, he’d almost forgotten about it. He leans against the backrest, burying his hands into the hoodie in a clumsy attempt to cover himself.

 

“It’s useless, no need to see that to know you’re pregnant,” Otabek points out, and Yuri turns his head to look at him questioningly. “I can smell you from here,” Otabek says in reply to his unsaid question, and Yuri mentally curses himself. Of course. Victor has told him as well, and it’s clear that the man in the alley was attracted to his scent, and surely not to his round belly.

 

“You’re not supposed to go around without your alpha, you know? It’s dangerous. For both you and the baby.”

 

Yuri shrugs. He doesn’t like the way Otabek is telling him what he should or shouldn’t do, like he’s judging him, saying he’s not a good mother or a good partner.

 

“What do you know?” he spits through his teeth, folding his arms in annoyance.

 

“Just my advice. Do as you like.”

 

The manager returns with two glasses filled to the brim with bright yellow juice balanced on a battered tray. He puts them down and hurries back on his stool next to the only fan in the bar. Considering it’s only the beginning of May, the heat is already suffocating there.

Yuri grabs the closest glass and sips the drink from the straw. He’d never tried mango juice, it’s rich, sugary and fruity. In a word: delicious. He decides that as soon as he’s back in Hasetsu, he’ll bully Victor into buying him loads of that stuff.

Yuri’s heart skips a beat at the thought. When he comes back, Victor will most likely keep him grounded on bread and water for what’s left of his pregnancy, after that escapade of his.

 

“You don’t remember me, do you?” Otabek’s voice breaks the silence, startling him.

 

“You competed against Victor last year and you came in third,” Yuri says bluntly, lifting his eyes just enough to meet Otabek’s. He wants him to understand that he knows him, that he’s not a fool who’s jumped onto the bike of a complete stranger—which is exactly what he did.

 

“I’m not talking about that. You and I have already met.”

 

Yuri’s eyebrows furrow as he tries to remember, but he doesn’t recall ever spending time with him before.

 

“Yakov’s summer camp, five years ago in Saint Petersburg.”

 

_Oh._ Now he remembers. The shy kid, absolutely hopeless at ballet and with the flexibility of a log.

 

“I hope you’ve got better since then, you sucked,” Yuri comments, to show he remembers that small moment in the past they shared.

 

“I medalled at the Grand Prix,” Otabek reminded him, as clear proof of his improvement, “and I stopped taking ballet lessons. Dancing is not for me.” Yuri raises an eyebrow and wonders how a figure skater could do without ballet. He’s surely never lingered long enough to watch Otabek’s choreographies to know the answer to that question.

 

“So, why don’t you tell me why you didn’t want to go back to the hotel?” Otabek asks straight to the point, without wasting time in pleasantries, which catches Yuri off-guard—just like everything about him, since they met.

 

Yuri looks away, letting his gaze fall onto the faded paintings on the wall. “I just don’t want to go back. End of story,” he says stubbornly.

 

“So you’re going to sleep on the streets?”

 

“Of course not!” That’s bullshit,” he snaps. How can he say such a stupid thing?

 

“It seems more bullshit to me that you don’t want to go back to the hotel,” Otabek retorts, earning himself a death glare from Yuri, who doesn’t appreciate the way he’s trying to make him feel childish and thoughtless.

 

“What do you care, anyway?”

 

“Considering I’ve just saved you from being raped, I’d say I deserve some kind of explanation,” Otabek replies calmly, as though they were merely talking about the weather.

 

“Ha! Right! How the hell did you find me? Were you spying on me?” he says shifting in his chair to face him, and this time he actually sees Otabek arching an eyebrow, the very first true display of emotion since they met, which surprises him almost enough to make him forget the point he was trying to make.

 

“I was sitting next to you in the tribune, though no wonder you didn’t notice, since your eyes were glued to Katsuki all of the time.”

 

Yuri flushes at those words and draws back, Otabek’s remark hitting too close to home for his liking. It’s true. During the whole free skate he couldn’t look away for a second. He knew Yuuri was sort of good—for his own standards—but he’d never stopped to watch him before. Not for the sake of it, at least, and surely not in the hope of seeing him win, unlike that day. But that afternoon he couldn’t help it, being so entranced by the choreography, his movements, and all the love and passion he was putting into it. For a split second he even thought part of that programme was dedicated to him, to them. But then...

 

“I simply followed you when you stormed out, after Nikiforov kissed Katsuki,” Otabek goes on with his calm and sedate voice, irritating Yuri off even more. “So I reckon you could explain why you ran away like that, since I took the trouble to look for you and save you.”

 

Yuri weighs the idea of pouring his juice over Otabek’s head and walk away, like in the best soap opera, but then he remembers he has no idea where they are now, or how to find the way back to the hotel—he only has his phone with him and his nearly empty wallet. Nothing that would come in handy if he had to hire a taxi or take a room somewhere, assuming he’d be able to do that. So he decides that answering is the lesser evil.

 

“I had no reason to stay and watch them snogging on national TV,” he hisses through gritted teeth, pissed off at how Otabek’s managed to extract that information against his will.

 

“I get it. I thought you and Victor were mates, after the interview you released this morning. Did I misunderstand?” he asks, and Yuri’s shifts his gaze on his juice, absentmindedly stirring it with the straw.

 

“It’s… complicated,” he replies, not knowing how else to put it. He’s surely not going to explain in detail the whys and wherefores of the relationship that ties them. Also because, in all honesty, he has no clue, either.

 

“Do you have a polygamous relationship?” At those words, Yuri almost chokes halfway through a sip. He coughs, covering his mouth with a hand, but half the juice ends up trickling through his fingers and pooling on the table. Otabek hands him a couple of napkins, the classic café napkins that look like they’re made of plastic, as useful as a colander without holes.

 

“Where’s this coming from?!” he says when he eventually manages to catch his breath, as he dabs the spilt juice on the table without much success.

 

“Isn’t it so? It looks rather obvious to me, since you’re carrying Victor’s baby, and he’s just kissed another man on live TV—a man, by the way, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from for at least ten minutes straight,” Otabek recites calmly, looking completely unfazed, unlike Yuri, who’s struggling to maintain a straight face while feeling on the brink of a heart attack. 

 

Because all that Otabek’s said is damn true, and getting it all shoved into his face makes it all the more real.

 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it, if that’s what you fear,” Otabek clarifies, when the silence between them stretches out and it’s become clear that Yuri’s not going to confirm or deny his conjectures.

 

“No? Really?” Yuri comments sarcastically. Otabek’s surely making fun of him, that must be a joke, and not even a funny one at that.

 

“No. I come from a polygamous family myself, so I have nothing against it,” he replies, leaning back against the backrest, and this time Yuri’s glass almost slips through his fingers.

 

“I’d advise you to finish it quickly, before it ends up on the floor,” Otabek teases him, nodding at Yuri’s glass, and the smallest smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

 

Yuri hastily puts the glass down on the table, away from his clumsy hands.

 

“You come from a polygamous family?” he repeats, as if the concept was too absurd to be true. He’s never met anyone who had first-hand experience with polygamy, he’s only ever heard about it here and there.

 

Otabek nods. “Technically, they prefer to define their relationship polyamorous, and not polygamous, but that’s the idea.” He takes a long sip before continuing. “My father is an alpha, my mother an omega woman, and my second mothers are a woman and a man, also omegas,” he explains.

 

“Second mothers?”

 

“My father’s other partners.”

 

“Oh… Okay,” Yuri mumbles, puzzled by the easy-going way Otabek’s talking about it.

 

“My mother was the second mate he found. At that time, he was already married with Aibek, his first partner, and they had three children—my older brother, and the twins. Then he fell in love with my mother, married her, and in a matter of two years they had me and my sister. Aibek had another boy a little before my sister was born.”

 

“And the third?” gasps Yuri. “Wife, I mean… Or partner, or mother, or whatever.”

 

“I call her mother, but for my father she’s been partner first, and then wife,” he answers, vaguely amused by Yuri’s increasingly shocked expression. “She arrived a few years ago. She’s very young, and I wasn’t quite thrilled when I met her, to be honest. But then she turned out to be a really nice person. She’s very kind and helpful, and she’s treated me and my siblings as if we were her own children since the very beginning, even though she’s only two years older than my eldest brother, which is rather odd if you think about it.”

 

Yuri nods. “Odd” is an understatement.

 

“Anyway, she had twins with her first pregnancy, and then a girl, Alya. She’s adorable.” He smiles talking about his baby sister, and the affection he feels for her shows through his eyes for a second, before he falls back on his usual serious expression. “In the same period Aibek had a boy, and a girl the following year, and my mother another boy. And now the three of them are pregnant again, so I should have three more siblings soon, unless they have twins, or more.”

 

Yuri listens to him, gaping, utterly baffled by the inordinate amount of brothers and sisters he has.

 

“So there’s, like… twelve of you? Sixteen, if we count your parents and their partners?” he asks, unable to picture such a large family, being an only child himself, and with only one role model.

 

“That’s right,” Otabek smiles. Talking about his family clearly puts him in a good mood, instead of embarrassing him like Yuri would’ve expected.

 

“And… How the hell do you manage?”

 

“To do what?” Otabek asks frowning, not quite grasping the meaning of that question.

 

“Everything! Live, eat, travel? How do so many people fit in one house? You have a hotel, or what?”

 

Otabek looks at him in surprise for a moment, before letting a laugh escape his lips, which astonishes Yuri more than all that’s happened until now. He’d almost thought that boy wasn’t capable of laughing.

 

“We manage like any other family. And no, we don’t live in a hotel. We have a fairly large house just outside of the city, with a plot of land for growing vegetables and keeping chickens, geese, goats and rabbits. Like a small farm, if you wish. And we share the bedrooms. A big room for the girls, one for the boys, and another for our parents.”

 

“You mean they sleep together? All four of them?” Yuri asks, stunned. The conversation is turning out to be more instructive than he’s anticipated.

 

“Of course. Do you not sleep with your partners?” Otabek turns the question back to Yuri, startling him. He flushes, and it’s a good enough answer that which doesn’t require him to actually say anything.

 

“They had a bed custom-built for them. It’s really huge. When I was little I loved bouncing on it with my siblings,” he goes on, smiling at the memory. “And obviously, the room is completely soundproof and sealed, so when our mothers go into heat, we don’t hear a thing of what’s going on behind that door…”

 

“I hope so!” Yuri comments, making him laugh again, and it sound so genuine it’s contagious.

 

“Yeah. Definitely,” Otabek agrees. “And you want to know what’s weird?”

 

Yuri leans towards him, nodding: the conversation is taking an unexpectedly funny turn.

 

“Their heats have synchronised over the years. Now they all come simultaneously. And honestly, I have no idea how my father manages to satisfy the three of them at the same time, but I don’t even want to think about that!” he adds quickly. Yuri makes a disgusted face, but something is stirring in his groin at the thought of spending his next heats with Yuuri and Victor, in the same room, in the same sheets. Otabek must’ve clearly figured what’s he’s thinking about from the shift in his attitude, because he smiles as he leans against the backrest.

 

“You see, having a polygamous family is not that bad. The problem is that people judge without knowing.”

 

Yuri nods. For years he’d also been one of those people judging without knowing, and now he’s realising how wrong he’d been.

 

“But it’s different for me,” he murmurs as he lifts a leg, propping his heel against the edge of the chair and hugging his knee tight against his chest, though his baby bump makes things a bit more complicated. “I think Victor decided to take me in only because he’s found out I’m carrying his baby. If he hadn’t known, he would’ve never come back to me, because he doesn’t love me… He loves Yuuri,” he admits, resting his chin on his knee, his sad eyes fixed on the mound of napkins on the table, which are finally starting to absorb the spilt juice.

He’d thought talking about this would have made him feel awkward, especially with a stranger like Otabek, but for some reason he feels he can trust him. Since they got there, he’s done nothing to make him uncomfortable, and he has in no way tried to approach him or do something inappropriate.

 

“You say so because of that kiss?” Otabek enquires, once again serious, and Yuri shrugs. He’d rather keep on talking about Otabek’s rowdy polygamous family than ruin the mood with his own issues. And now hormones are gaining the upper hand on him again, making his eyes glisten with unshed tears.

 

“He sure didn’t kiss _me_ , when he said he’s the baby’s father,” he replies without looking at Otabek. “He didn’t even come close to me, or… I don’t know, take my hand. Nothing.”

 

“Would you have let him?” Otabek retorts, and the answer that comes immediately to Yuri’s mind is: _no_. But he doesn’t say it out loud, and Otabek mistakes his silence for a tacit confirmation.

 

“Anyway, he’d just scolded me for almost revealing Yuuri’s secret to Yakov,” Yuri mutters, trying to change the topic, but a second later he realises the implied meaning of all that conversation. Yakov may have been so stupid as to believe Yuuri is an alpha, but Otabek is certainly not as easy to fool, especially since he comes from a polygamous family himself.

Gaping and wide-eyed, he lifts his head so fast his neck cracks disturbingly.

 

“You can’t tell anyone!” he yells, much to Otabek’s puzzlement.

 

“What?”

 

“Don’t pretend you don’t understand! If I find out you said so much as a single word, I swear to God I’ll kick your arse!”

 

“I promise I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Otabek frowns. “I’m not following you.”

 

“I’m talking about Yuuri, fuck! Nobody knows about all of this, and about him!”

 

“That he’s an omega?”

 

Yuri leans over the table to cover his mouth, not caring about the wet napkins pressing against his black T-shirt. If he’s lucky, the stain won’t be visible and he won’t have to throw it away. He’s only worn it three times, and it’s cost him fifty dollars!

 

“Shhh! The fuck are you yelling for, arsehole?!”

 

Otabek’s eyebrows furrowed even more, maybe for the insult, maybe because he’s fairly sure he’s maintained a normal tone of voice while saying that last sentence. But he can’t answer back.

 

He grabs Yuri’s wrists, delicately but firmly, and pulls them off his face.

 

“I don’t think the bartender and that man over there understand Russian. And even if they did, I highly doubt they’re so interested in figure skating that they know me, you, or Yuuri Katsuki,” he points out, and Yuri glances at the only two human beings in the bar—apart from them—and yes, Otabek is definitely right about everything.

 

“What the fuck do you know?! Maybe they’re massive fans of his!” he says pissed off, sitting back into a vaguely proper position. He makes a disgusted face at the damp spot right in the centre of his T-shirt, on his round belly.

 

“Of course,” Otabek comments flatly, and Yuri glares at him. How can that guy be so bloody composed and haughty all the time?

 

“You must tell no one, anyway. Nobody knows, and Yuuri’s fought his whole life to keep it secret. You’re not going to be the one fucking up his career! Am I understood?”

 

Otabek nods. “I won’t tell.”

 

“You’d better!”

 

“I’d never do such a thing, Yuri,” he insists. He wants to make himself clear. Yuri probably doesn’t trust him enough, but it doesn’t matter how much he wants to win, he’d never destroy another skater’s career revealing the secret about his secondary gender to the world. It would be cruel and cowardly.

 

“Good.”

 

They stare at each other for a long moment, then Yuri looks away. Silence falls on them as he tries to blot his T-shirt with those useless napkins.

 

“I can tell you’re really in love with him.”

 

Yuri almost chokes at those words, and he drops the napkins, which flutter to the ground.

 

“WHAT?” he all but yells, causing the only other patron in the bar to turn towards them. “With who?”

 

“With Katsuki Yuuri.”

 

“What, the pork cutlet bowl?” he says. “Are you fucking kidding me? I could never fall in love with him!”

 

“Pork cutlet bowl?”

 

“It’s a long story,” he huffs.

 

“I like stories,” says Otabek with a small smile, and he sighs.

 

“It’s just bullshit. It happened when we did that stupid competition in Japan. That idiot Victor decided to have me skate to Agape, and Yuuri to Eros.” He snorts in annoyance. “And since he was a still a virgin with no experience whatsoever, the only thing he could think of to find his eros was katsudon!”

 

“Which is…?”

 

“A pork cutlet with rice and egg! Really good, by the way,” he mutters, and his stomach rumbles approvingly, making him blush.

 

“Ah,” it’s Otabek’s only comment.

 

“I told you it was a silly story.”

 

“You told me it was a _long_ story,” Otabek rectifies, gaining himself the umpteenth glower. But he smiles as he says it, so Yuri’s death glare softens, and his lips stretch in a smile as well. It’s just impossible not to cave in, with Otabek.

 

“You’re right.”

 

His stomach rumbles again, and Otabek chuckles.

 

“Fuck, this is so embarrassing.”

 

“How so? The baby’s hungry, have you eaten? I doubt it, considering how you ran away earlier, am I right?”

 

Yuri shrugs. That would be another good reason for Victor to scold him, as in the last period he’s taken upon himself to make Yuri eat regularly—hungry or not, complaining or not.

 

“Then I’d say we’d better order something.”

 

Otabek orders for both again, communicating more with his hands than his words with the owner, who understands maybe one word out of five of his strongly accented English. But eventually he manages to pass the message, and in a matter of minutes he and Yuri find themselves sharing a hearty dinner, almost completely made of fried food, but absolutely delicious. Yuri can only hope it won’t have any unpleasant side-effect on his stomach, like it happens every damn time he eats in a foreign country.

 

“You know…” Otabek starts, as Yuri finishes the last forkful of sautéed rice, “when I first met you, at that summer camp, the first thing I thought is that you had the eyes of a soldier.”

 

Yuri looks up at him, those words baffling as he’s not sure how to interpret them. Him, the eyes of a soldier?

 

“Even though you were only a child, and younger than me, you had a determination in your eyes I could never forget.” Yuri flushes. It almost sounds like a declaration, and he doesn’t know how to react. But Otabek keeps on talking, not really expecting a reply. “I’ve always thought that someone like you would fight for what they want until they get it, no matter at what cost. So I think, if a kiss is all you want, you should take it, and not wait for Victor to give it. Or Yuuri,” he hints nonchalantly, and Yuri knows he’s right.

 

For all his life he’s fought tooth and nail to be the best, always, the first in everything, and obtain what he wants. He’s never allowed anything to stop him, and now he’s giving that power to a stupid kiss. Yes, Victor may have kissed Yuuri on national TV, but he cannot lie to himself and pretend he didn’t feel the same impulse in that moment. The difference is that Yuri was at a twenty-metre distance, while Victor was there, within reach. Had Yuri been there with him, all three of them would have ended up tumbling on the ice. Knowing that embarrasses him, but at the same time it makes him feel a bit better. Perhaps, the true reason behind his jealousy was that Victor had taken what _he_ wanted to have, kissing Yuuri, while denying it to him, not kissing him during the interview when he had the chance. Two small, insignificant details, but together they’ve pushed Yuri over the edge, making him do the stupidest thing on Earth.

 

“I need to go back,” he murmurs, more to himself than to Otabek, but he notices him smiling out of the corner of his eye as he gets up. Otabek is about to take out his wallet, but Yuri stops him. He doesn’t have much money on him, but he’s sure it’ll be enough to pay for their food and drinks.

 

“Don’t, I’ll pay.” Otabek opens his mouth to say something, but Yuri glares at him. “If you’re going to say something like ‘I’m the man, let me pay,’ I swear I’ll kick you!”

 

Otabek looks at him, amused. “Actually, I was going to thank you,” he answers, putting the wallet back away, and Yuri feel his cheeks burn for the umpteenth time that evening.

 

He pays the bill, which is ridiculously cheap, and climbs onto the bike. The journey back seems to him like a rollercoaster ride—now that he’s more clear-headed he realises how bloody dangerous riding a bike is, and how his belly is uncomfortably pressed against Otabek’s back. He hopes and prays there won’t be any marks on it, or Victor is really going to lose it this time.

It takes them less than ten minutes to get to the hotel; despite the late hour the streets are still swarming with people and the city still seems full of life, almost like that morning. Otabek pulls over in front of the entrance, but doesn’t turn off the engine as Yuri hops down.

 

“Are you not stopping here?” Yuri asks confused, and Otabek shakes his head.

 

“I’m not staying here, the hotel is reserved for skaters and staff members. I stay in a small hotel just up ahead. My coach will be waiting for me.”

 

“Oh… Right,” Yuri nods, the thought of Otabek being there only as a spectator not having even crossed his mind. His coach is probably one of those who believe watching the competition can help study and understand their techniques, and elaborate a winning strategy. He muses over that as he unfastens his helmet, knowing he’s likely not going to see Otabek for quite a long while. The thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

 

Otabek places the helmet behind him, fastening it so that it doesn’t fall, before turning his attention back to Yuri.

 

“Well… uhm… Thanks,” Yuri mumbles, head down as he kicks a stone with the tip of his shoe. He’s not sure what he’s waiting for. He should just turn around and go away, but he can’t. “I suppose when we meet next time we’ll be rivals,” he murmurs, even though he doesn’t like how that word sounds.

 

“Or we could meet as friends.”

 

His heart skips a beat at those words. Nobody had ever offered him to be friends before. Sure, he’s had plenty of rinkmates, both in Moscow and Saint Petersburg, but none he could ever consider actual friends.

 

“So? Are you going to be my friend or not?” Otabek presses, startling Yuri. He’s not used to being spoken to in that way, he wouldn’t stand for it unless it was Victor. But with Otabek, for some reason, it’s different. He nods, and Otabek smiles. He offers Yuri his hand to shake, which Yuri does blushing up to his ears. _His first friend._

 

They both leave with a quick smile, without saying anything else. Otabek puts the bike into gear and twists the handlebar, then disappears zigzagging through the Beijing traffic, leaving Yuri alone on the steps of the hotel.

He turns around and fishes his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans. He presses the central button and the screen lights up, showing forty-five missed calls and twenty-seven text messages. His heart sinks and blood freezes in his veins as he goes through the revolving glass door at the entrance. He’s not going to get away with it this time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And Otabek has come into play, too!! The knight coming to save Yuri on a shining bike! Aww! <3 Even though there’s not going to be anything romantic between the two of them, at least now Yuri has a friend, it’s something!

And I have to say, I loved writing this chapter <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another chapter is finally online! I know, I know, it's been ages since I posted the last one, but you know, it's summer, and the two amazing girls that are spending their time translating this have university, and exams and a life to live... so I hope you wont blame them too much for this delay! I'm deeply grateful to them for being still working this!!! Love you girls! T^T <3


	19. Chapter 19

Yuri realises the situation is worse than he thought the moment he walks through the heavy glass doors in the entrance.

 

In the hall, a tired and bored-looking policeman is talking to the receptionist, absent-mindedly jotting down her words on a notepad. He was forced to take the night shift when his colleague called in sick for the umpteenth time. He’d hoped to stay at the police headquarters, in his stuffy office, or doze in one of the police cars parked in some empty alley. But then, that call came. Two men with a pronounced foreign accent called to denounce a missing minor. No, a kid barely eighteen. Blond hair, green eyes, 1.68 m tall, wearing the Russian national team jacket, black trousers, red shoes with a leopard print. Omega. Six months pregnant.

 

He wouldn’t even have bothered for a missing teenager, in a city like that. Especially not before the twenty-four hours since he was last seen. But that tiny detail was what pushed him to get up from his comfy armchair and haul himself to the hotel. Stories about omegas kidnapped and abused to obtain a ransom, or to sell their babies on the adoption black market, aren’t exactly unheard of in Beijing’s poorest districts.

 

As soon as he sets eyes on the boy standing on the threshold, he figures he should’ve followed his instinct and stayed in his office. That’s clearly not a case of kidnapping, just one of the thousands of empty-headed teenagers who disappear to pull a stunt, or spend an adventurous night in the big city.

 

The receptionist points at Yuri speaking in Chinese, confirming his identity. She remembers him from the previous night, his rudeness having left a strong impression on her. It clashed with his angelic features, but somehow it made him even more intriguing.

 

The officer curtly nods at her, then moves towards Yuri, who recoils from the man towering over him. He’s had enough emotions for that night, he doesn’t need a tour of the police station and an arrest for his foolishness and Victor’s impulsiveness on top of that. He can’t believe he actually called the police. After all, he’s only been missing for a few hours. He bites his lower lip, glancing at the clock on the opposite wall—a large, modern-looking contraption with an exposed clockwork made of slowly rotating cogs.

 

Twenty past one in the morning.

 

His stomach drops, he hadn’t realised how late it was. Panic speeds up his heartbeat. He doesn’t want to go up in their room. He doesn’t want to cross that threshold. He doesn’t want to face Victor. He won’t get away with it this time, unlike at Yu-Topia.

 

“Yuri Plisetsky?” the man asks, and the accent distorts his name so much that Yuri almost doesn’t recognise it, but he nods all the same. “Come with me.”

 

Yuri feels a lump in his throat and gulps, to no avail. He hopes he’s not about to be handcuffed and dragged to the nearest police station. The idea of spending a night in a cell terrifies him, but maybe he’s seen one too many detective films. Sure enough, the man only ushers him into the lift. 

The ride up to his floor feels eternal, but when the doors open, Yuri wishes it had taken longer. The officer notices his hesitation and urges him to move with a rough but controlled push. He’d probably like to shove him forwards, but he holds back, given Yuri’s condition. Yuri stumbles anyway as he exits the lift, and only his reflexes—honed in years and years of training—spare him a fall.

They hurry down the corridor. Yuri sees the man’s eyes darting quick glances at the brass numbers on the doors.

 

“The card.”

 

Yuri jumps and turns around to look at him, the blood rushing in his ears is drowning out all the sounds, and he’s not sure he’s understood his words.

 

“The magnetic key card. Do you have it, boy?” the man insists when he doesn’t receive an answer. Yuri shakes his head, Victor has the only one. He didn’t think they’d need a copy.

 

The man sighs and lays a hand on Yuri’s shoulder as though wanting to hold him, before thumping the door. A dull thud comes from the inside, then subdued voices, then the door opens wide. Victor is standing on the threshold, his face ashen and his hair dishevelled.

Yuri’s catches his breath, he’s never seen him like that. He’s seen him tired, furious, and frustrated before, as well as happy and excited, but never so upset. He has the expression of someone who’s just lost the most precious thing in the world, and Yuri’s heart clenches at the sight. But it only lasts for a brief moment.

Victor’s gaze goes from disoriented to relieved and then steely, so hard it forces Yuri to lower his eyes.

He vaguely hears Victor exchanging a few words with the man, but he cannot make out their meaning. His heart is hammering so fast he thinks he’s on the brink of a heart attack.

When the grip on his shoulder loosens, he takes a step backwards to regain his balance. He hadn’t realised how much he’d been leaning against the figure behind him.

 

“Thank you, officer.” Victor’s voice ending the conversation is muffled in his ears, but Yuri knows they’ll be alone in a matter of seconds, and he’s scared.

 

“You will be charged for requesting the intervention of the police before the twenty-four hours from the disappearance,” the man drawls. The only thing he wants is to go away and curse that foreigner who made him waste his time.

 

“We’ll pay. Again, we’re sorry for the inconvenience,” Victor replies with his usual professional tone. But he refrains from smiling, he has a feeling one of his charming smiles wouldn’t be of much help in that moment. The man doesn’t answer. He nods at Yuuri, who’s standing silently behind Victor, before turning around and leaving the room, slamming the door behind himself.

 

Yuri’s stomach lurches. He tries to pluck up his courage, knowing that in a matter of seconds Victor’s ire will strike him with all its might. But what happens catches him so off-guard that it knocks the wind out of him.

The slap comes unseen and painful, like a bolt from the blue. A loud smack that echoes in the room and leaves a stinging mark on his skin.

He gasps, his head still tilted, his cheek burning as much as his pride. But it isn’t Victor who hit him.

 

“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!” Yuuri’s voice is harsh as he shouts at him, and his words drip anger and anguish, desperation and fear of having lost something dear—and relief at the realisation that it wasn’t lost after all.

 

“We almost died of fright, you know that? Do you have any idea of what we’ve been through in the past five hours?”

 

Yuri hunches his shoulders, he wants to answer but his knotted throat won’t allow him. He wants to say he’s sorry, he shouldn’t have done that, he was a fool, but he just stands silent in front of him, trembling.

 

It’s just a second, then Yuuri grabs him by the shoulders and wraps him in a hug, his face buried in Yuri’s hair, hands clutching at the sweatshirt on his back. Yuri can feel him shaking as he nuzzles his golden locks.

 

“Don’t do that again. Got it? Ever!”

 

Yuri nods against his shoulder with tear-flooded eyes, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

 

“Where have you been?” Victor’s voice is cold and low, measured, as though he’s trying in every possible way to restrain himself, to keep calm. And Yuri knows he has to give an answer, he has no choice, but he cannot force himself to speak, to tell him the truth. Lying would make things even worse—he knows it well—but how can he tell him what’s happened? About him running away, the man in the alley, the bike ride, and that bar somewhere in the Beijing suburbs. About Otabek.

He worries at his lower lip. Yuuri’s arms loosen their grip around his body, and Yuri would like to tell him not to let go, to stay by his side, but he has no right, not now, not after what he’s done. 

 

“I… ran away,” he admits in a whisper, like a child confessing to a mischief, and he knows he’s given the wrong answer the moment those words leave his lips.

 

“That, I know. I asked you where you’ve been,” Victor predictably hisses.

 

“I don’t know… I got lost,” and that is the truth. He would’ve never been able to come back to the hotel if Otabek hadn’t come to his rescue. If he hadn’t saved him.

 

Victor steps forward, and Yuri lifts his face to meet his eyes. They’re cold, and at the same time burning with rage and jealousy. Now that he’s closer, Yuri can smell the faint trace of pheromones coming from his body, in spite of the chemical barrier created by the masking soaps he uses daily. It’s thick and pungent, dripping jealousy and need to claim possession of him. And Yuri knows. He knows Victor can smell a scent that doesn’t belong to him. A stranger’s scent on his skin.

 

“You reek of alpha,” Victor growls, his nostrils quivering, torn between the need to hold his breath and the urge to take in lungfuls of the smell lingering on Yuri’s clothes and find whoever laid their hands on his mate.

 

Yuri shivers, unable to hold his stare. He wraps his arms around his body, tears stinging in his eyes. He feels dirty. “It’s not what you think…”

 

Victor steps closer, leaning over him. He inhales deeply a few centimeters from his neck. “I think it is… I think you ran away to go and get fucked by someone else,” he snarls in his ear, startling him.

 

“Victor!” Yuuri says, shocked by his words, and fury washes over Yuri like a tidal wave, quickly wiping out fear and guilt.

 

He shoves him away indignantly.

 

“How dare you lecture me! You, who smell like someone else all the time!” he yells, pointing at Yuuri. He’s never really sensed his scent, and he’s probably talking nonsense since Yuuri always uses soaps and deodorants to cover his pheromones, but he wants Victor to feel guilty, to understand what it means to feel dirty. “You, who’ve cheated on me God knows how many times! You, who didn’t think twice before fucking someone else while _I_ am carrying your child!” He pushes him again, and Victor stumbles back, completely taken aback.

 

“You left me! You left me without a word, without turning back for a second!” Yuri shouts, throwing all his anger in his face. “And then, like it was nothing, you dragged me to Japan and expected me to be okay with you fucking someone else! And you have the galls to accuse _me_ of being unfaithful?!”

 

Yuuri stands aside and observes the scene, wounded by his words, his stomach tied in an uncomfortable knot. He knows it’s the truth. He felt the same way when Yuri came back to Japan, but hearing him speak like that pains him deeply. That could be the end of everything. In the past month, he’s thought Yuri was starting to feel something for him as well, to accept their relationship, but maybe he’s just deluded himself.

 

“I’ve given up everything for this baby, for you!” Yuri barks. “But you never stopped and asked me what _I_ wanted! If I was fine with this! If this was what I wanted!”

 

“Yuri…” Victor tries, but he doesn’t let him speak.

 

“And then, you thought it’d be a good idea to kiss him on worldwide broadcast, after saying you’re the father of _my_ baby!” he yells, red-faced. “And you want _me_ to feel guilty about running away?! You’re the asshole here!” he accuses him, and Victor doesn’t even try to defend himself, Yuri is right. He’s right about everything. And it hurts, it hurts like hell.

 

“You keep toying with me like cat and mouse! You deceive me, make me think you feel something for me and then you prove otherwise!” Yuri’s voice breaks at those words, but he doesn’t let his emotions get the best of him. “I’m fed up! I’m fucking done with it! You hear me?!”

 

“Yurio,” Yuuri whispers from the other side of the room, unable to hold back, his heart heavy as lead in his chest. He doesn’t want to lose what they have. He doesn’t want to let go of that promise of happiness he’s glimpsed, like a faint mirage on the horizon.

 

“NO!” Yuri snarls, turning around to point a finger at him in warning. “I’m not standing for it any longer!”

 

“You mean it’s over?” Victor asks. “You’re leaving me?” and his voice cracks, agony seeping out as though the idea is torturing him, but Yuri is not moved.

 

“I can’t leave you if we’ve never been together, Victor!” he screams. “I’ve never been anything more than a game for you! You used me when it suited you, until you found someone better than me and threw me away!”

 

He looks at Victor angrily as he vents on him, merciless, trying to hurt him as much as he can, to break his heart just like Victor broke his too many times. “Even now! What am I?! Tell me what the fuck I am! I’m carrying your child, but you love _him_! I’m nothing to you! You didn’t choose me! You didn’t leave your career for me! You did it fo—”

 

Victor cuts him off pressing his lips on Yuri’s, silencing him with a bruising kiss, in a desperate attempt to make him understand he’s wrong. Their teeth knock, and Yuri whimpers. He manages to raise a hand and, for the first time in his life, he hits Victor. A punch right in his cheek that makes Victor stagger backwards.

 

“Don’t you dare, asshole!” Yuri shouts with tears in his eyes, his hand throbbing. He’s not going to be silenced like that. Not anymore.

 

Victor gapes at him, his hand reaching up to cover the injured cheek, disbelieving. Silence falls on them, the only audible noise being the clock ticking on the bedside table, and Victor’s ragged breathing.

 

Yuuri moves first. He approaches them cautiously and rests a hand on Yuri’s back, who flinches at the touch but doesn’t withdraw.

 

“Don’t touch him!” Victor growls, making Yuuri shudder. He’s still too sensitive to the effect of that stranger’s pheromones not to let his territorial instinct prevail upon seeing someone else touching his mate, in spite of all that’s just happened.

 

“You need to calm down, both of you,” Yuuri whispers, without removing his hand. It’s a hard battle. Ignoring a direct order given by Victor is almost impossible, especially in that moment, when his alpha aura is stronger than ever. But the protective instinct and the affection he feels for Yuri overpower it, and give him the courage to resist, to stand up to Victor head-on. “I’ll wash him and we’ll be back, it’ll be just a matter of minutes.” He says those words with deliberate slowness, studying the expression on Victor’s face. There’s a long moment’s silence, then he nods. A single curt movement that requires a huge effort of him.

Yuuri seizes the opportunity and ushers Yuri into the bathroom, without wasting time. He closes the door behind him, but makes sure not to turn the key. If Victor thought he’s trying to lead Yuri away from him even for a second, he’d likely be capable of breaking down the door.

 

“Strip,” he orders as he bends over the tub to turn the tap on.

 

“Why?”

 

“You want to wash with your clothes on?” Yuuri says bluntly, unable to talk to him with his usual kindness after all that’s happened in the past few hours, and especially after Yuri’s harsh words.

 

“I don’t want to wash at all.”

 

“You must.”

 

“Why?!” Yuri insists, looking for an excuse to keep arguing, still too overwhelmed by rage to want to cool off.

 

“Because you smell like another alpha and you’re driving everyone crazy, for fuck’s sake!” he snaps on the verge of losing his patience, leaving Yuri speechless. It’s so unusual for Yuuri to swear that the shock dissipates his anger, replacing it with bewilderment.

 

“Now will you take off your clothes, please?” Yuuri asks again, taking a deep breath to try and calm down, and Yuri complies silently. He unzips his jacket and lets it fall to the floor, followed by his T-shirt. He shivers slightly at the feeling of cool air on his skin. He unbuttons his trousers and shoves them down his thighs, kicking them off, but he hesitates before removing his boxers. He has no reason to feel embarrassed, Yuuri has seen him naked countless times, but now it’s different. He feels the weight of the words he’s spoken to Victor earlier, guilt gnawing at him.

 

“Those too. You cannot wash with those on,” Yuuri presses, startling him. He hooks his thumbs under the waistline and lowers them excruciatingly slowly. He glances at the mirror and thanks his lucky star he doesn’t have any bruises, despite the rough night he’s had. At least he won’t have to explain those as well. 

 

Yuuri quickly wraps the clothes up in a towel, then places the bundle on the wide ledge outside the window.

 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Yuri says, afraid that he’s about to throw them downstairs.

 

“I’ll wash them later. But for now, it’s better they stay away from you and Victor as much as possible,” Yuuri mutters, and Yuri suddenly feels dirty and guilty again, even though he knows perfectly well he’s done nothing wrong. Almost.

 

He feels Yuuri’s hand sliding in his and turns his head to look at him, but Yuuri is staring at the bathtub in front of them, shutting him out, raising a wall between them that has never been there before.

 

“Come on.”

 

He lets Yuuri lead him to the tub, climbs over the edge and sits in the warm water. He tries again to meet Yuuri’s eyes, without success, and a weight settles in his heart. Has he lost him as well now? The mere idea hurts so much it leaves him breathless. He hadn’t realised yet how much he’s grown fond of him up until that moment.

Yuuri picks up the raw silk glove sitting on the edge of the tub and slips it on, then pours body wash on it.

 

“What—”

 

“Don’t even try,” Yuuri warns him immediately, nipping in the bud any protests, as he lays his gloved hand on Yuri’s back and starts scrubbing.

 

Yuri contracts his jaw, gathering his knee up to his chest as best as he can—considering how cumbersome his baby bump is—and wraps his arms around his knees, chin resting on them.

 

“Won’t you tell me what really happened?” Yuuri murmurs, lathering his skin, and Yuri bites his lip. He doesn’t want to, but right now he doesn’t think he’s in any position to refuse.

 

“It’s just like I said to him, I didn’t lie.” It’s an evasive answer and he knows it won’t be enough, but he hopes Yuuri won’t press further. He doesn’t feel like telling him what he did that night.

 

“You really don’t want to talk about it?” Yuuri insists, but he doesn’t answer and silence ensues between them.

 

“I’m sorry you feel trapped, I know you hate this situation, and the fact that it’s my fault is killing me,” Yuuri whispers. His hand slips into the water for a second, as if he doesn’t have the strength to hold it up, then he clears his throat, trying to regain his composure and resume washing him.

 

“But… I fully understand how you feel,” he adds, quietly.

 

Yuri frowns slightly. “You?” he asks, skeptical. “How could you?” he huffs, bothered by how presumptuous Yuuri is, thinking he can still be jealous after all of Victor’s grand gestures directed at him.

 

“You remember last evening, when I talked to Phichit?” Yuuri asks, starting to rub Yuri’s shoulders again and then moving on to wash his arms.

 

“The Filipino guy?”

 

“Thai.”

 

Yuri shrugs as if to say _“whatever,”_ and Yuuri goes on. “We talked about this thing… About Victor, and you.” He casts him a side glance, and Yuri feels his stomach clenching unpleasantly, judging from his tone it doesn’t seem it was a fun conversation. “Phichit has known me for years, we have been friends for a long time and we even lived together in Detroit for five years. He knows everything about me, but I had kept this from him until now.” Yuuri pauses briefly, taking Yuri’s hand into his to carefully rub between the fingers. “I didn’t do it on purpose, but… I think I avoided revealing that for fear of his reaction, and sure enough the other night, when we talked, he managed to bring back all my doubts, all the insecurities I had tried to sweep under the carpet, as they say. Now, the other hand,” he murmurs, and Yuri silently holds out his hand. “That’s why I sucked in the free.”

 

“How can you have doubts? It’s crystal clear Victor wants you, loves you. Not like with me,” he adds. “He wouldn’t have done what he did today if it weren’t the case. And it’s not only that, his career, his life, he left everything behind for you,” he snaps, trying to conceal his disappointment and sadness with the sheer annoyance he feels by listening to Yuuri talking nonsense. It’s selfish of him to think he can have doubts about Victor’s love for him, after all he did for him.

 

“I know, but it’s more complicated than that,” Yuuri replies, as he makes him raise his arm to wash his armpit and side.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“It’s not the first time that I fall in love with someone and put myself into a situation like this.” It’s the first time he admits it aloud with someone other than Phichit, and it is a surprise for Yuri to hear it.

 

“Who?”

 

“Yuuko” Yuuri whispers, avoiding his gaze.

 

“Yuuko? But she’s a woman! And a beta!” he exclaims, surprised. He would have rather expected to hear him confess that he had fallen in love with his previous coach, that Italian man with the prominent chin and outrageously long eyelashes.

 

“Yes, I know,” Yuuri replies, smiling at him for the first time since he returned to the hotel—faintly, yet it’s enough to instantly make him feel better. “But she was pregnant, just like you now.”

 

“Wait, so what if she was pregnant?” asks Yuri, defensive. “Don’t tell me you’re one on those pervs with a pregnancy fetish!” he snaps, upset.

 

“No, it’s not that,” Yuuri chuckles before carrying on. “I was living a particularly hard moment of my life, I was fragile and I ended up clinging to her, I convinced myself I loved her, that’s all,” he whispers. “Phichit saw me pine for her and then helped me pick up the pieces when I realised that there could never be anything between us, that I had deluded myself that I felt something I didn’t really feel, that’s why I shattered into pieces.” He moves towards the bottom of the bathtub and nudges Yuri’s ankle to make him raise his leg.

 

“And when I told him about you, he thought I was making the same mistake, that I had fallen into the same trap,” he murmurs, and Yuri’s heart skips a beat. For all this time he had thought Yuuri was referring to Victor, when he talked about that someone he had feelings for, but now it’s clear it’s not so.

 

“Wait, are you saying…” he exhales in a feeble whisper, and Yuuri’s eyes move upwards to meet his. “Are you saying that…. you’ve fallen in love with me?” he asks, stunned by that possibility he had never actually taken into account, not even for a second.

 

“I… think so,” it’s Yuuri’s uncertain answer. “Yes,” he corrects himself with more confidence a second after, admitting it for the first time even to himself. What he feels is not fondness, it’s not protective instinct, it’s love. A sweet and all-encompassing love that warms him from the depths of his soul.

 

At those words Yuri holds his breath, a heat wave washing through his body, setting his cheeks on fire. Not even Victor has ever said he loves him, and now Yuuri, who until a few months ago was just a stranger, a rival to beat, is opening his heart to him. He feels his heart rate speed up, wild.

 

“I don’t expect you to reciprocate, of course. I know you don’t feel anything for me and that you hate this situation,” Yuuri adds hastily, even though pronouncing those words is so painful it makes his voice tremble. “I told you this just so you can understand I know what it means to be full of doubts and jealousy. I know that all too well.” He lowers his eyes and starts rubbing Yuri’s legs again, perhaps a bit too vigorously now.

 

“I…” Yuri swallows hard, trying to keep his pounding heart under control. “I never said I hate it.”

 

“What?” Yuuri stills, raising his gaze on him, but Yuri lowers his face, unable to maintain eye contact.

 

“I never said I hate it, this thing… we have. I was angry because Victor never asked me if that’s what I want. He didn’t ask either of us,” he whispers, cheeks red with embarrassment now, more than the warmth of the water that surrounds him.

 

It feels like eternity before Yuuri finally manages to find the voice to speak.

 

“And is this what you want?” he asks quietly, a barely audible whisper, fearing the answer more than anything else in his life.

 

Yuri shrugs, carefully avoiding his eyes, focussing on the floating foam that hides his nudity.

 

“When I ran away, earlier, I met a person, a… friend”—saying that word feels a bit strange—“and he made me understand that I wasn’t angry because I’m jealous of you, or because Victor kissed you, but… because he took something I wanted to have… Something I wanted to _do_.” he stammers. It’s not even close to the love confession Yuuri has just made, but it’s much more than he ever imagined he could say, and Yuuri is aware of it.

 

“You mean… you wanted to kiss me? Is that why you ran away?” he asks quietly, shaken by that possibility, while Yuri tries to disappear under his penetrating gaze. Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to tell him that, he’s already starting to regret it.

 

“You can do it,” is Yuuri’s unexpected reply that strikes him like a thunderbolt. “God, Yuri, you can do it whenever you want!” he says, the weight that’s been sitting on his chest up to that very moment suddenly lifting. And Yuri blushes to the tip of his ears, a bit because of Yuuri’s words, a bit because of how he called him, with his name and not with that stupid nickname he always uses.

 

“You can do it as often as you want!” Yuuri insists, taking Yuri’s hands in his.

 

“Okay,” Yuri mumbles in response, not knowing what to say, too embarrassed to even be able to think he could do it in that very moment. That he could just…

 

Yuuri squeezes his hands, as to encourage him, and he winces, withdrawing the hand he previously hit Victor with.

 

“Sorry,” Yuuri says quickly, letting him go.

 

“Punching people fucking hurts,” he mutters, looking at his bruised knuckles. “Shit… I punched Victor,” he breathes out, upset by the enormity of the act. The rush of adrenaline made him forget about it.

 

“Yeah… you might have given him a black eye,” Yuuri remarks at his side, managing to find the whole thing almost funny now that fear is not crushing him anymore. The fear of losing him, of losing them both.

 

“Shit,” Yuri repeats. “He’s going to kill me.”

 

“He won’t, he loves you too much to kill you,” Yuuri smiles at him and he huffs, still unconvinced.

 

“Still, we’d better finish washing you, you two have to make up before it’s too late,” Yuuri adds and those simple words have to power to replace the maelstrom of emotions in Yuri’s chest with suffocating anguish.

 

“I don’t want to go back there,” he whispers.

 

“Why? Are you really afraid he would hurt you?” Yuuri asks, suddenly serious. He’s always thought that Victor isn’t the kind of person capable of hurting someone, but after seeing him furious a few minutes earlier he’s not so sure anymore.

 

“No! Of course not, but… there are things that do more harm than being hit,” Yuri mumbles with his head lowered and Yuuri’s heart tightens at the sight.

 

“I know, but I won’t let him hurt you in any way” he replies impulsively, feeling the urge to comfort him.

 

“As if you could promise that,” Yuri scolds him.

 

“It’s not going to happen.” he insists. “Now kneel down.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I have to finish washing you.”

 

Yuri frowns. Then he realises what part of his body has not been washed yet and blushes furiously. “You don’t really mean to…”

 

“Do you want Victor to smell another alpha’s scent on you, right there?”

 

“But he didn’t touch me there!” he immediately retorts. The idea that both of them would think he’s let another man, a stranger, touch him so intimately crushes him.

 

“It doesn’t matter, I don’t want to risk. Victor was incredibly upset just by smelling your neck, so please, Yuri,” Yuuri insists with pleading voice, and he gives in. He lets Yuuri help him kneel down, taking care not to slip inside the bathtub, and then waits with clenched jaw and heart beating like crazy.

 

It’s not like they’re doing anything indecent or perverted, but Yuuri has never touched him below the waistline. Not even that night before leaving for the Cup of China, when he rubbed himself against him. He blushes at the memory and tries to banish the thought from his mind, the last thing he wants is to have an erection while Yuuri washes him.

He feels the silk glove sliding along his lower back down to his buttocks. He flinches slightly at the contact, stomach churning. Yuuri washes his cheeks with great care, reaching the thighs’ line and the hips and then he hesitantly moves on to the space between them. Yuri feels the glove rubbing against his opening, which twitches instinctively. He is perfectly aware that Yuuri has felt it too, despite the glove between Yuri and his hand, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Not even when Yuri sighs shakily as Yuuri’s hand slides on his length, caressing it. Yuuri is careful and kind, there’s no lewdness in his gestures and he doesn’t linger more than is needed, although perhaps he’d like to, especially after their respective confessions.

 

“You can sit down” he mumbles in the end with choked, strained voice. Yuri slips back into the water with relief, eager to hide the rising tension between his thighs.

 

“Now the hair, and then we’re done.”

 

Yuri nods and tilts his head back, letting Yuuri shampoo his hair. But Yuuri doesn’t stop there, he also rubs his neck, the back of his head and behind the ears and makes him rinse his whole body—including his face—three times before he is satisfied. When he finally gets out of the bathtub, Yuri has never felt so clean. His skin is rosy, bright and shiny, and smells of him and nothing else.

Yuuri wraps him in a large terry towel, warm from having been on the radiator, and rubs him vigorously until he’s warm and his cheeks turn to a healthy pink. He then makes Yuri sit on the toilet and plugs the hairdryer in. He starts to carefully dry his hair, running his fingers through the golden locks.

 

“Done,” Yuuri says once his hair is soft and fluffy, giving it one last brush, almost as if he doesn’t really want to stop touching it.

 

Yuri stands up and Yuuri hands out a dry bathrobe to wear to go back to the bedroom, but then stops him before he can open the door.

 

“Wait, it’s better if I take a quick shower, too, since I hugged you earlier.”

 

“Oh… All right,” Yuri nods, glad to have an excuse to postpone the inevitable for a few more minutes.

 

“It will only take a second,” Yuuri adds, fearing that he might be bothered by the idea of having to wait for him while he showers.

 

“I said it’s all right. No hurry,” Yuri mutters, sitting back down on the toilet.

 

“Okay.”

 

Yuuri turns on the shower to let the water warm up while he undresses. He quickly takes off his shirt, which joins the bundle of clothes on the ledge, then does the same with his trousers and underwear. But once his boxers are off, he takes care to turn around until he’s in the shower box. He makes quick work of scrubbing his skin, not missing any spots, and for once he uses normal soap. Maybe his omega pheromones, together with Yuri’s, will help Victor calm down a bit, and not see Yuuri as a threat.

Or at least, that’s what he’s hoping for.

He turns off the water after rinsing carefully, and slides the frosted glass shower door just enough for his head to peep out.

 

“Uh… Could you pass me a towel, Yurio?” he asks uncertainly, stupidly embarrassed at the idea of being seen naked.

 

“Really, Katsudon? You’ve just washed my dick and now you ask me to pass you a towel so I won’t see you naked?” Yuri snorts, raising an eyebrow.

 

And Yuuri blushes to the tip of his ears, a bit for the absurd situation, a bit for the vulgar term that, on Yuri’s lips, sounds obscenely erotic.

At that reaction, Yuri bites his lower lip, suddenly aware of what he’s just said, and hurries to get a clean towel. He turns his back on Yuuri and throws the towel at him, who gratefully catches it, slipping back into the shower to dry himself up. When he’s out, he dons one of the clean bathrobes, with the hotel’s logo embroidered in gold on the chest, and drops the wet towel on the floor to join Yuri’s, then somewhat rubs his hair dry, trying to be as quick as possible.

 

“Okay, done,” he says once he’s finished. He puts the shower head back on the rail and turns around.

He gives Yuri a small reassuring smile before opening the door.

Yuri hesitates on the threshold. He doesn’t want to go, doesn’t want to face Viktor after the things he’s said to him, but he must and he knows that. He takes a deep breath and follows Yuuri into the bedroom, but what he finds there leaves him speechless.

 

Victor is sitting on the bed, on the side where he slept the night before, his elbows resting on his knees and his head abandoned between his shoulders. He’s the picture of desperation.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a pain in the ass to write, I must confess. I had, like, three different versions that I eventually merged into the definitive one, which was twenty-one pages long, but was then split into two parts on the advice of my beta. So I got two chapters out of it, of which I am cautiously—even though not fully—satisfied.
> 
>  
> 
> Having said that… Yuuri confessed! Isn’t he adorable?! <3 and Yurio as well! I love them, and you??!
> 
>  
> 
> A big big thank you goes to the two amazing girls that keep translating this, chapter after chapter, doing an amazing job! Love you girls!!! <3 <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> Final notes:  
> I hope you enjoyed it and that the translation is good. 
> 
> A special thanks goes to Maple&Shrike two wonderful girls who translated this for me, doing such a great job!  
> 


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